In the name of Broad Peak, in the name of change
[Poem from Shamloo]
This is us. We are here again. We are together, but alone. We are here not for selfishness, not to show off, we are here because of love, because of emotion, because of pride. We are here because of maturity, because of summit, because of madness, we are here for end, end of a beginning, an end which promise a soarer beginning.
An end which is not an end, which is the basics of a beginning, which is the backend of a beginning, which is an end to inabilities, to self underestimations, to being stuck, to being stuck in habits. Yes, an end to being stalled, to not goings, to not achieving, a dawn to these erosions and an a rise to growing roots, to make flowers. That's the good aroma of change, and a disproof for being stalled.
We want it to be ours, to be our way, to be our route, to be our rope, to be from our breath and sweat. We want to give a meaning to ability, we want to live change, we want to understand desire, to want the desire. We want to respect the dean whose life was spent in this way, whose heart was broken in this way, whose soul had pain in this way. We want to make happy the old man whose tears changed into cry, and his cry was brought into the court. We want to pass the way which is right, which is toward well being . We want to hear scoffs, to be mocked, to be reproofed, to waste our money, to run, to cry, to risk. We want to be climber, we want to be eligible inheritors, we don’t want to be under bullying, we don’t want to be blind.
Yes, we are here, to honor the memory of our now dead climbers, to move our climbings forward again, to leave a memory of ourselves, to leave something behind for future climbers of our land. We are here to carve our memento on the body of an eight thousand meters height mountain, to carve the name of our Iran, we are here to whisper reviving again.
Who can stand against our desire? Our desire is from essence of iranian climbers. Poverty can not stand against our desire, our desire frightens the risks, our desire is not in need of permission of officials who consider themselves chiefs and commanders, who consider themselves a better class, who consider themselves elite, who consider themselves climbers, they are in need of our desire, they are under our superiority. Our desire does not need letter and certificate and permission of council. Our desire has its roots inside our substance, inside our veterans, inside the substance of whom have spent their lives for this country's climbing. Our desire is youth's desire, it’s flying desire. Our desire is in love, it doesn't know failure, it doesn’t know sabotage, it doesn’t consider mockery as disgrace, it doesn’t consider scoffing as a shame, our desire only see there, that highest peak.
I told we are alone, but we are not. Thousands of eyes are looking for us, thousands of hands are praying for us. My mother's eyes, my father's hands, my friends looks, all are our supports. We are not alone, a few decades of honorable climbing is behind us, a large number of new looking climbers are behind us. Our supporter is not government's money, is not certificate of championship, is not elite status. Our supporter is not bustle, is not brawl, is not interview, is not TV. Our supporter is not poor porter, is not oxygen capsule, is not fixed rope. Our supporter is our sweat, is the sound of our pant, is the feel of cry in our throats, is the tears in our eyes. Our supporter is our silence, our patience. Our supporter is you, which did not consider many years of our efforts as a failure. Our supporter is you, not that jealous which mocked us because of his weakness, not that weak who lack the courage to traverse a few hundred meters with his own rope, not that one which his Himalayas is only in his ascension handle, not the one who is a false champion. Our supporter is you, you that which your look, with your voice, with your hope, with your hope for a shiny future for this country's climbing convoy us. Our supporter is you that prefer hundred meter of advance way to thousands meters of repetition way.
They say you can not, they say you will die, they say you are not capable of these objectives, our elites was not able, you will not be able for sure. They say we will close your way, we will stop you. They say Himalayas is ours, its ascent is also ours, its pride is also ours, its joy is also ours. They say us go and wait, we will answer your letter a few months later, they tell us it's not kids game, it's not that easy! They tell use its Hiiiiiiimaaaaalaaaayaaaaasssss, its not Touchal.
We tell them, be afraid, your leadership is at its end, we tell them this ascent is your nightmare and this nightmare is our dream. We say failure is not a shame for us, the peak is not our purpose.
We say lack of courage is shame, fear is shame, being stalled is shame. We say yes, purpose is not peak, promotion is objective, experience is objective, seeing is objective, touching is objective, learning is objective, to learn from failures.
We say laugh at our failures, from the bottom of your heart, from your pleasure, then would come our turn. When our previous failures, like a ladder, help us to climb up. We say laugh now, your laugh as loud as it is, still is remained down there.
We say we laugh at you from up there, everybody would hear our laugh from up there, everybody would receive our message. We say this is our reward, this is the result of our patience, the result of our assistance, the result of our courage, the result of our tears, the result of a few decades of our climbings which you want to neglect and you don’t allow it to raise. But from up there, we will pull you down, we will sing the song of life for our climbing, hand in hand, full of joy, full of pride, full of honor.
No we are not alone, this mountain is with us, still is standing beside us in our pictures, still when we look at her we hear its voice. She calls us, to her love school, to her life's school, her climbing school. She is enthusiastic to teach, to teach courage, to teach self confidence, to teach progress. She calls us to its lost heaven, she calls us with all of her horrible winds, with all of her avalanches, with the voice of her crackling ices. Even though she is superior to all of her surrounding world, even though she sees everyone from up there, but still calls us to be our inferior, she calls us to offer herself to our feet. Not because we are someone, not because we are countable compared to her, that we know we look like a bubble in front of her which looks like a see, and less than a rush in her sky.
She calls us because she knows in the mourning atmosphere of our country’s climbing, that's only her, who can give us a hand. She calls us because she knows we take refuge there, she calls us because she knows we are secondary and the main are hundreds or thousands of new climbers which should be trained according to her way. She calls us because she is big, upward and is tired of being downs, she calls us because she knows we were brave enough to invade her district, because our message is not ours, it's the message of iranian climbers, the message of change.
No this is not us. We are not alone as well. This is you. You, who will follow this way, you who will keep this idea alive, you who will not be fooled by repetition, and will not drawn in the swamp of position and title lovers. You are our pride, you are our propulsion force, you are our motivation. This is your hands which pray for us, which wants good for us. This is you who will remain alive ever, which the future belongs to you, the future is dependent on you. Yes this is you, it’s only enough to want, the bests, the progresses, the peaks, the ones.
Translated from Persian script at: