By Mehrnoosh Torbatnejad
I hate that the English translation for Isfahan, nesfeh
jahan, doesn’t rhyme like it does in Farsi; Isfahan,
half the world—do you hear how offensively
mediocre the maxim sounds, the music of the city’s
tagline hushed in the travel from one language to
another, what if I paraphrase the hemisphere to
preserve the glory of the imprinted saying like,
Isfahan, at the foothills of the Zagros dawn, or
Isfahan, a Silk Road stop liaison, or
Isfahan, lifegiving river of Central Iran, or
Isfahan, thirty-three arches to reflect upon, or
Isfahan, handmade carpets of the highest echelon, or
Isfahan, Eight Heavens palace, sine qua non, or
Isfahan, its massive Square an architectural paragon, or
Isfahan, where the song of embossment carries on, or
Isfahan, gardens mimicking a paradisal phenomenon, or
Isfahan, a renaissance ever-present of the bygone, or
Isfahan, the most accurate version of its motto hereupon:
Isfahan, quite simply, the city that gave me my maman
Mehrnoosh Torbatnejad is a poet and attorney. Her poetry has appeared in The Best American Poetry, Ploughshares, and New England Review among others. She won the 2019 LUMINA La Lengua contest and the 2016 Pinch Literary Prize, and is a Best of the Net, Pushcart Prize, and Best New Poets nominee. Her work can be found at www.mt-poet.com.
