Hossein Panahi (Kohgiluyeh and Boyer-Ahmad)

Hossein Panahi (Kohgiluyeh and Boyer-Ahmad)

Hossein Panahi, actor, director, writer, and poet, was born on Shahrivar 6, 1335 SH in Dezh Kuh village, in the central district of Kohgiluyeh County. After finishing his studies in 1350 SH in Behbahan, due to his father's recommendation, he found his way to the school of theology, and after two years, he served people as clergy in his region for a while. But he could not tolerate seeing the people of his motherland in suffering and quit being a clergy.

He had a lot of ups and downs from then: he was a teacher in Shooshtar for one year and he did different jobs in Ahvaz such as working in a library and did some activities in cultural sections during the war between Iran and Iraq. After immigrating to Tehran in 1360 at last, he registered in acting classes at Anahita School and there, he studied acting and playwriting for four years. This four-year course was an introduction for Panahi’s acting. His first acting experience began when he played in a television series called Health District in 1363 SH. The two plays, Two Ducks in Fog and One Flower and the Spring, which he wrote and he played in too, were very well received by the audiences. He was one of the most innovative television play writers and directors in 60s and 70s. Besides all these activities, Panahi was a poet. He revealed another aspect of his intellectual and artistic character, but because of the magic of silver screen, he attracted fewer audiences. He left us with poems such as I Am Dead, Plato Next to the Heater, by GMT time, Russian Nightmares, Man va Nazi, The Things I Don’t Know, Letters to Anna, Hello, and Goodbye. Being published in 1376 SH, his first poetry collection, Man va Nazi, has been reprinted more than sixteen times and translated into six living languages around the world.

He died at the age of 47 in Mordad 14, 1383 and according to his will, he was buried in the city of Soogh next to his mother. It looks like he predicted his time of death in a poem. He wrote:

“We're indebted

      To all who asked sincerely:

      "Excuse me,

      Which day of August is this?"

      And we spared saying it

      As August has been grave

      To our love of a bloody flower

      in our heart

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