Mahta Naeemi
Director General of the Art Department at the Nobel Foundation in NASA International Space Apps Challenge
Director General of the Research, Entrepreneurship, and Artistic Team of the Nobel Foundation at NASA
Citizen and Scientific, Research, Entrepreneurial, and Artistic Representative at the United Nations
Ambassador for Science, Research, Entrepreneurship, and the Arts in the United Nations
Official Representative for Science, Research, Entrepreneurship, and the Arts at the United Nations
Esteemed Scientific, Research, Entrepreneurial, and Artistic Representative to the United Nations
Recognized Citizen and Contributor in Scientific, Research, Entrepreneurial, and Artistic Fields within the European Union
Ambassador for Science, Research, Entrepreneurship, and the Arts in the European Union
Official Representative for Science, Research, Entrepreneurship, and the Arts at the European Union
Distinguished Representative for Science, Research, Entrepreneurship, and the Arts in the European Union
Recipient of the Special International Gold Award from the University of Oxford, UK, one of the world's leading universities.
Recipient of the Special International Silver Award from the University of Oxford, UK, one of the world's leading universities.
Recipient of the Special International Bronze Award from the University of Oxford, UK, one of the world's leading universities.
Awarded the Special World Gold Cup by the American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics (AIAA).
Awarded the Special World Silver Cup by the American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics (AIAA).
Awarded the Special World Bronze Cup by the American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics (AIAA).
Holder of the Special World Gold Cup from the Society of Astronomers Without Borders, USA.
Holder of the Special World Silver Cup from the Society of Astronomers Without Borders, USA.
Holder of the Special World Bronze Cup from the Society of Astronomers Without Borders, USA.
Recipient of the Special World Platinum Trophy from the Society of Astronomers Without Borders, USA.
The member of the Nobel Peace Foundation and participant in the conferences, seminars and events of Nobel Peace Foundation
Official member and lecturer and mentor and owner of the research team at the American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics
Official member of American Nano Society
Official member and lecturer and holder of the research team at NASA
Mentor of the New York Academy of Sciences
Official member and lecturer of American Society of Astronomers Without Borders
Official member of 4 of the main global units of the European Union Aviation Safety Agency
Participant in international scientific and research events and entrepreneurship and start-up of the United Nations
Lecturer and organizer of scientific and research events and start-up and entrepreneurship events at NASA and the American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics for children, teenagers and adults
Lecturer and organizer of numerous courses, conferences, events, and congresses at Harvard University, the best university in the world
Lecturer and organizer of courses, conferences, events, and numerous congresses at the University of Oxford, England, the best university in the world
Educational consultant of MIT University, the best university in the world
Official member of the European Union Aviation Safety Agency
Participant in conferences, seminars, conferences and events of the United Nations
Holder of diplomas in Graphic Design and Music
Bachelor's degree in Painting from the Faculty of Art and Architecture, Tehran Markaz
Bachelor's degree in Photography from the University of "Honar-haye Zibā" (‘Fine Arts University) in Tehran.
Fashion designer and owner of a boutique
Self-taught in Astronomy for 10 years
Academically studied Philosophy and earned certifications in Interuniversal Mysticism (Erfan-e-Halgheh) and Samenology
Published 4 books
Photographer for prominent music bands and Tehran Municipality
Performed music with the "Abid" group at Maestro Majid Akhshabi's Studio, Mehrava
Worked as a photographer for Majid Akhshabi, his studio, and Hamraz Academy
Taught music, worked as an editor, introduced books, and promoted reading at reputable institutions
Songwriter, composer of modern poetry, and melodies
Participated in painting exhibitions, including those at Saba Gallery and Maestro Farshchian's exhibitions, where I received an international certificate allowing me to display selected works globally
These days I am active as a poet, writer, and musician
Short Story: The Traveler of the Parallel Universe
Author: Mahta Naeemi
Third Place Nationally in Short Story Writing, Ayaz Astronomy Association, Tabriz
He had to find a way to save humanity.
He lay down on the bed. They connected wires to his head.
He was ready to see the results of several years of effort by himself and his team.
His mind was being uploaded into a colossal computer, as the first traveler into a black hole at the center of the Milky Way galaxy.
A radar beam, along with his mind, was sent into the black hole to ensure that this journey would be safe for others as well.
If the mind died in space, the body would also perish on Earth.
The countdown began:
"Three,
Two,
One,
Uploading mind begins."
First, there was darkness.
Then, something like a white explosion occurred.
A mind, free and without a body,
floating in space,
witnessed a massive explosion.
The Big Bang was happening.
Then,
in a matter of seconds,
from the explosion of a tiny hot atom, gigantic stars were born, and the death of stars created planets.
The small Sun and the Solar System were born.
Earth appeared and spun like a hot disk.
The Moon appeared.
The first human was born,
wars,
deaths,
and human history passed at the speed of light.
Until the end of the universe and a great contraction.
The next light pulled the mind away from the solar system, guiding it toward the center of the Milky Way galaxy.
The black hole's gravity pulled the mind in.
The radar beam was still functioning.
The mind was completely drawn into the black hole.
He felt the curvature of space-time.
Time slowed down so much that it came to a halt.
Space reached its ten-dimensional form,
and the three-dimensional space was like an ancient memory buried deep in his mind.
And then, he saw nothing; complete silence.
Until he opened his eyes in another world.
A tiny newborn,
in his mother's arms,
crying in wonder at the new world around him, while the new humans celebrated the birth of his evolution.
But he remembered nothing of the past.
The radar beam was still working.
The people of the parallel universe were ready for their journey.
These days, I have lost track of time.
I don’t know—between the pages of my books,
or beneath my flowerpot...
Believe me, I even searched my guitar,
but it's nowhere to be found!
Where is time?
Beyond the Milky Way?
Behind a black hole?
Tell the clock hands,
they have hidden themselves under the calendar!
Even the calendar lies these days,
we must rewrite history from the beginning.
Time has come to a halt,
history has collapsed...
I have no understanding of this revenge!
Mahta_Naeemi
Look through the window at the silk hanging from the full moon—
a silver curtain,
floating above the sea.
Come, let’s sail away tonight,
board a boat,
and rise to the moon on that silk.
I’m sure we’ll gather countless stars
and bring them home.
Darkness has overtaken the city,
let’s gift these stars to its people...
Perhaps celestial light
will awaken their minds!
Mahta_Naeemi
Autumn returns…
Moonlight, veiled in dust upon the mirror,
Rain, resting against the windowpane.
Once more, a heart overflows
with endless love for you,
weighed upon your weary shoulders.
A leaf-strewn alley…
Your voice lingers on a rusted, silent gramophone,
A worn-out violin,
gazing at the ivy-covered wall.
Autumn returns…
A heart overflows,
Leaves carpet the alley,
A sorrowful longing.
The footprints of your absence
echo,
echo,
upon the grieving autumns of my soul.
Mahta_Naeemi
I glance at the mirror…
I see a little red fish,
fallen out of its bowl
on the fountain’s edge.
The tile is scorching,
the water inside the bowl—cool and fresh.
It shifts from side to side,
struggles,
flaps,
cries out,
screams…
Its screams are silent.
Burning, it fights back,
looks up
its mate,
worried,
gazes at it...
It calms down.
The sound of the courtyard door!
Someone arrives...
but only says:
It was fate!
And tosses the fish into a bucket…
Just that…
I wasn’t paying attention,
Did I say I was looking at the mirror?
Mahta_Naeemi
Mankind has looted humanity…
Like a grand, majestic ship
lashed by relentless waves,
a whale anchors itself
on some distant shore.
As an airplane shatters the sound barrier,
a butterfly is caught in a cage.
Did you see that paraglider
resting upon the sunset?
Humans love to fly
but clip the wings of others.
I owe this poem to the Earth,
for all the trees, from every land,
that turned into worthless newspapers.
A tree blocking the street was axed!
From yesterday to today, for nearly a century,
they have uprooted trees
to build us tables.
Tonight, I pressed the red button
and watched them slit a cow’s throat
so we could eat its meat,
so its skin could complete my shoes tomorrow.
We are the scarecrows
standing by every road,
beside every river,
wherever there is life,
waiting to destroy it.
We have stolen the night’s sleep from every creature,
only to rest peacefully at dawn
with a barrel of sleeping pills.
And we
we, who have dimmed the stars,
devoured the Sun’s energy,
gulped down the ocean,
and taken a bite out of the forests—
we stand proud,
violating the very Earth that gave us life.
We shake hands in allegiance
while cursing each other in our minds.
We deny God—or claim to own Him,
and for every disgraceful act,
we have a ridiculous excuse.
Mankind has stolen humanity from us…
Mahta_Naeemi
Nostalgia
You and I, from Valiasr to Tajrish and Darband,
From Naderi Café’s espressos to a fleeting smile.
You're still etched on our autumns for two,
In art cafés where my eyes wept without you.
You're engraved in the notes of every accordion,
The conqueror of my heart—like Napoleon.
Wandering in silence under Tehran’s moonlit lanterns,
Break the silence—the world is left behind beneath your steps.
You're carved into the nostalgia of distant memories,
Like a ruby searching for shades of blue.
The heartbeat of the past pulses in rain-soaked sidewalks,
The bitter scent of Shemroon’s coffee flutters through the air.
Me, lost in dead-end loneliness on every street,
You, imprinted on the alleys of this smoky city.
A fate without you—a weariness, a sorrow-laden grief.
You're etched on the curtains of Farhang Cinema,
In the weeping of gramophones, in the sorrow of longing hearts.
A restless heart, yearning like a snowman beneath the sun,
Like Rumi’s trance under the moonlit night.
You're reflected in the blue fountain at the heart of the porch,
The clocks remain silent—when did the rain stop?
You're woven into the hazy thoughts of this house,
How many years since you left?
This lover still refuses to believe it.
Mehta_Naeemi
The infinite is the truth of our world,
The world is but a small reality!
When the night, upon your shoulders,
Descends,
A cascade of calm devours my heart.
Suddenly, I forget
The sea's blue has turned red,
The color of spring has faded, and it feels as if
Words have turned into autumn,
As if autumn has arrived.
I forget
The thirsty lips on the leaf,
The calloused hands of the tree.
Until your gaze ignites fury upon the horizon,
I remember again.
The burning of my heart is no different
From the unextinguished flames of Australia's forests.
No, it makes no difference.
Yes, we were short-sighted.
The future became our past.
But strangely, I do not know,
I do not know what happens.
When I see you,
The moment opens its mouth
And drowns me in the safe spring of your eyes.
You conspire with the moment
To throw my mind, from the misfortune of the world,
To the waterfall of your hair,
To the spring of your gaze,
To the scent of your embrace.
Mahta_Naeemi
A star in the void of my guitar plays a nebula,
I saw the cajón, as if it were the sun, rhythmic,
And it made a galaxy dance.
My violin, its bow stuck on "D♯ minor,"
Plays an endless waltz for the love of the moon.
I saw the harp playing itself, spinning the Earth,
The kamancheh, its string wrapped around Saturn!
What a beautiful creation.
A key on the "C minor" piano,
Turned a planet into Jupiter, submerged in music.
And the tar played a distant galaxy,
Can you hear it?!
Huh?!
The sound of the ney from a black hole in the Milky Way,
Playing music, a galaxy plays.
Mahta_Naeemi
From the ungrateful people of this city,
Entrust your heart to the spring,
You stand as the paradox of spring and winter.
Let it be,
So that the harmony of spring's colors
Wraps itself around the truth of the abstraction of a false realism.
It makes no difference,
Let go, even,
A neorealism full of denial,
With the composition of a dream upon the canvas of your heart,
Plant a cypress,
So that the freedom of the world may take hold,
So that death may die,
So that war may pause,
So that this cadence may join a beautiful-toned tonic,
Let the duet of spring blossoms
Prevail over the melody of autumn’s falling leaves.
Yes,
My sweet postmodern,
Arise and welcome spring.
Mahta_Naeemi
Death circles my room,
Sits for a while
On my rocking chair, meant for reading,
Death loves my books,
It told me so itself,
It doesn’t want to take me,
Even if the time has come.
It doesn’t pull the trigger,
I don’t even know why.
I crumpled my emotions and
Threw them in the trash can of my room.
These days, only Beethoven’s symphonies
And Chopin’s études
And Bach
Calm me…
The smell of my coffee
By the window, always open, facing the sea…
My broken guitar,
My out-of-tune piano,
The crumpled papers of my poems,
These days, the scent of lilies
And roses of love,
The smell of rain and the remnants of love that rests upon my heart…
These are the things that calm me…
If this remaining love leaves my heart,
I will be left with just a stone heart.
Mahta_Naeemi
"Death"
Pulled the sheets aside.
The morning light, filtering through the gaps of the white curtain’s netting, filled the room.
The window was half open. The scent of rain-soaked pine caressed its nose.
Someone had forgotten to throw away the cherry pits.
Her unfinished books were scattered on the floor.
Just like her unfinished love.
The smell of coffee lingered.
The phone was full of unread messages. Its red light kept flashing on and off.
She was lost in thoughts of dance.
An endless dance.
She rises,
Embraces the sheets,
A duet not to be forgotten, as if Beethoven and Mozart were alive at the same time.
She spins and spins,
Spins and spins,
Spins and then stops,
Until her hands reach the rain; just the tip of the pine tree behind the window.
And with the cloud that’s raining, she plays with love,
And leaves behind her last unfinished book.
"Author: Mahta Naeemi"
Oh, cycle of death and life,
I do not understand you at all,
But I know enough
To know that I know nothing.
Like the unbearable retired cowboy,
Like the loneliness of a riderless horse,
Like the loneliness of a world,
Like the loneliness of just one God.
We sit in a prison,
Constantly tallying up our life.
Like the loneliness of thousands of people,
Unaware that
The prison door is open!
It has always been open,
Open to a blinding light!
We have stayed so long in the darkness,
We cannot see the light!
A light that calls to me,
A music that whispers to me,
We must pass through this darkness.
The door is open,
Why didn’t we see it?
All these years it has been open!
Darkness makes a man blind,
Suggestion locks a man in prison,
Man was a prisoner of himself,
A captive of the darkness of ignorance.
Mahta Naeemi
My poem was waiting for it,
Finally, it came.
It was the rain that kissed the hands of the leaves today,
And it was the rain that caressed the dry branches of the trees.
The rain poured on my face and
I became nothing from nothing.
The rain is Your messenger, O God.
The rain kissed the red lips of the fish in the pond,
The thirsty mouths of the birds,
And I took a drop of the rain and placed it on my lips and kissed it,
And once again, I became nothing from nothing.
Mahta Naeemi
On a cold rainy day,
Turn up the volume of Vivaldi,
Let the lowest note of his violin
Deafen our ears.
Sit next to the philosophy of Plato
On the couch,
Gaze out the window of the soul,
Into my eyes,
Whisper the longing they hold,
More romantic than a moonlit sonata.
Put your coffee aside,
In honor of the nostalgia of our sweet days,
Come, let’s drink together
A cup of cinnamon tea.
Mahta Naeemi
I will compose a new song,
A hundred-beat song,
With a 3/4 time signature,
In every measure, three black rests,
Like your silence, facing my three-lettered emotion.
I’m certain
No cadence
Will ever match the grandeur of the day you left.
And after that,
No incomplete dominant will resolve in any tonic.
Even
To accompany my endless silences,
The tears of a symphonic orchestra
Won’t be enough.
Mahta_Naeemi
From the corner of my eye, the scent of words drips,
Smell this word before it dries.
From my fragmented fingertips, color spills,
When time moves on,
And I become absorbed in the white painting on the canvas.
How many canvases have broken my bones?
I hear music when my guitar tunes me,
We follow the trace of coffee’s scent, walking step by step with the notes of rain, without an umbrella.
I owe my poems that I crossed out in belief.
It takes understanding to be a woman who is a poet,
She plants a tree of philosophy
To bear a bloody apple,
And the soul of the galaxy swears by it,
That all of existence is seen in the shape of that apple.
Mahta_Naeemi
The boundless truth is our world,
A mere reality is our life!
When night falls upon your shoulders,
A waterfall of calm devours my heart.
Suddenly, I forget,
The blue of the sea has turned red,
The color has faded from the face of spring, and it seems as if
Words have become,
As if autumn has arrived.
I forget
The thirsty lips on the leaf,
The calloused hands of the tree,
Until your gaze’s anger sets flames across the horizon,
I remember again...
The burning of my heart is no different
From the unextinguished flames of Australia’s forests,
No, there is no difference.
Yes, we faltered,
The future became our past,
But strangely, I don’t know,
I don’t know what will happen.
When I see you,
The moment opens its mouth,
And drowns me in the safe spring of your eyes.
You conspire with the moment
To hurl my mind away from the misfortune of this world
Into the waterfall of your hair,
Into the spring of your gaze,
Into the fragrance of your embrace.
Mahta_Naeemi
My body aches,
How heavy is this weapon?
Is it heavier than a pen,
Or a camera,
A guitar,
Even a canvas or a crumpled negative?
Do you see?
Each of us goes to war with a weapon!
Even with prayer.
Mahta_Naeemi
Pen in hand,
Paper on the desk,
How foolish they think,
That my mind can be confined
Within a four-walled prison?
My gaze falls on the lock of my bracelet,
The chain breaks from my mind!
I write:
"I am not political,
I want two wings
To fly,
Two words for poetry."
They take the pen from my hands
And imprison me in a cage.
Was my weapon my pen?!
Mahta_Naeemi
I wish,
I no longer hear
That whales have committed suicide,
Or that forests have struck matches against themselves.
I wish no news would spread
That the blue ocean
Turned blood-red,
Or that migratory birds stopped migrating
To die.
I wish I wouldn’t see
Hungry wolves, standing, taking bullets.
I wish the oak trees wouldn’t sacrifice themselves
For humanity,
I wish they wouldn’t stand tall and hang.
But a whale,
No matter how high it lifted its step,
They didn’t hear its voice.
No matter how much
It sang of peace in its song,
They laughed at it.
Yes, in the end, its teeth
Sank into its own heart.
Yes,
Its teeth sank into its innocent, beating heart...
And its heart never sang again,
Not for the oceans,
Not for humanity...
Mahta_Naeemi
Hey, Censor!
Can you rewind the negatives of this documentary a little?
You said: How harmful the weeds and the debris are!
How polluted they are,
And deadly.
We must wear a mask,
Get vaccinated.
You tell me what must be done
So I can go back and finish my poem!
Yes, I was watching a bit of television,
Far from my poetic nature.
Now I want to go to the forest,
A forest dense with green cypress.
I want to breathe,
Invite the rain to my eyes.
It's been years now, when it rains,
The color of my eyes,
The ruby red drops,
Flowing down my cheeks.
The sparkle in my eyes has gone to warm the sun.
By the way!
The news was saying we should wear masks.
I forgot my mask.
Ah, I just remembered...
I, too, am the debris,
In this dense green forest.
Mahta_Naeemi
The dried blister of my lungs,
Strangles the oxygen of my breath.
Tell me, how can I laugh?
When they have chained my lips all around?!
Mahta_Naeemi
Every morning, love rises and paints life
Then it gives
And weaves a fresh poem
On the endless carpet of existence.
Mahta Naeemi
My eyes were left in the wave of colors stained by the brush of a painting.
Was it blue? Green? White or magenta?
A rainbow of every color you’ve seen and not seen.
My ears were tuned by the sound of Vivaldi’s violin,
Each note set fire to my being,
Like a phoenix, it awakened me from the ashes of Rumi’s verses.
A poetic madness surrounded me,
I placed my hands on the contours of that statue
Next to the painting that had stolen my gaze.
My fingers felt the wind of its dress and caressed its hair.
In awe, I fell to my knees.
I saw beauty,
Beauty, and nothing more.
At that moment,
My mind wandered to visit Plato,
And I fell into the artery of God’s painting.
I saw the black hole that devoured the radiant energy from me.
Wherever the dark energy of life resided,
I, however, reached the expanse of creation,
To a full light,
To pure white,
To love,
To God.
Mahta Naeemi