Mamak was born in Teheran into a well-read family, among books and whispers of tenderness and humanity. She got the name Mamak (dear ma) and was brought up to be mother-like and to love all world. Her childhood´s fairy-tales were Shah Name but because of her humane personality she didn´t want to listen to cruelty, war and death. So in the beginning she always said to the story-teller: Please no killing. Therefore, in these tales, Sohrabs and Shirins didn´t die. From her third year she took a pen in her hand and at once, with a special love, started to write and paint. At high school and the university, parallel to her school-work, she was active with theatre, readings of poems, journalism, ballet and painting. She received several medals...

At the age of seventeen her poetry was printed and at eighteen she was censured to continue because of her marriage….Some years later, because of the war, she fled her country to Sweden that she preferred because of its human culture. In Stockholm she was employed at the School Administration as librarian and had many exhibitions of art together with readings of poems with music accompaniment in Stockholm Culture House and Town Hall and….Many of her paintings were shown in the rooms of Stockholm School Administration. She wrote several books from 1997 and further on, for instance “Tango With Cactus”, “Taranga Tarang”, “Iranian Poems” and…. Her road is love and humanity, she wants friendship and respect for all.. and she is dreaming of a world without distances in peace.

Lovely Rain

It began to rain
and touch the window pane
It’s singing aloud
and ringing again

...And singing my heart
with my lovely pain
Oh, speak simply
like a drizzle
To me as mother,
like this lovely rain                                     / Mamak

باز باران آمد / باز هم ابری ، از دل غمگین خود ، با خاکیان می گفت / باز هم بر شیشه ها می خورد ومی نالید / ... و دل من می خواند ؛ آه با من ساده صحبت کن ..آه بامن سآده صحبت کن ..مثل باران آشنایم باش..مامک

تنها ترین كشتی ی عالم را می رانم ، در سردترین اقیانوس غربت/ باد ​می آید و بند نافهای گسسته ام را می برد/ درجاده ی ایستایی خود مانده ام. / باشد .../ سهم من از این از این آوارگی ها ؛ قوی تر شدن است. مامک

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