Editor: The letter is addressed to Rza Talebi from Urmia. Talebi is a political refugee.
Oh, Rza!
My dear Rza, I have no idea where you are right now. Maybe in Turkey, maybe in another country. But I know that you are thinking about Azerbaijan, tending the embers of your memories.
If you want to know how I am doing, I am very well, Rza…You know why? Because democracy prisoners are happier than those who are “free” in exile. You know what I remembered recently? It probably sounds strange today, but years ago, detainees wanted to be convicted in their mother language [as opposed to in Russian, under Soviet rule. – Ed]. They wanted to be sentenced in their mother tongues. Now I am living their dream. Maybe yours as well, Rza. I am in prison now but I am happy. Maybe you won’t believe me; many would not. But I am truly happy: because I was sentenced in my mother language, Rza.
The digression of our long talks was Nevid Musmir’s song:
Marağanın üzümü
Qoyun, deyim sözümü…
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They don’t let us talk. But at least now they are shutting us up in our own language. I don’t know if it that is good or bad – but I wish you “democracy prison” in the South [“Southern Azerbaijan”, officially North Iran – Ed.]. Rza, I recently heard that Khadija Ismayil has been imprisoned. I don’t know how to respond to this news; I can’t find the words. After all, what can you say at such a moment?
Rza, you know why I am surprised? Before our men loved, fought, protected women. But now our men are afraid of women.
I know this letter is extremely emotional. But I also know that being emotional and have the capacity to feel is happiness:
Təbriz üstü marağa
Telin gəlməz darağa
Yar məni mehman edə
Bircə içim arağa…
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As you can see I am doing well.
Say hello to everyone from me.
If the night is too dark, the wordless morning is very close, Rza!
Your Friend,
Seymur Hezi
Kurdakhani Detention Center
18.12.2014
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“The grapes of Maragheh; Let me say my word…”
– approx. trans. (Nəvid MÜSMİR – Burdan Uzaq Marağa)
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“The Maragheh above Tabriz; Your thick hairs won’t be combed; I will be your guest my love; But first let me drink.”
– approx. trans. (Nəvid MÜSMİR – Burdan Uzaq Marağa)
