bloodline
I like trees
who have risen in honor of you
and water
which is your mother’s seal,
Your blood has reddened honor:
Shafaq, the mirror of your decency,
and Falak Mehrabi,
in which you
Morning prayer, you have testified
I am lost in thought
that has sucked your blood
I have never seen such a deep pit
It is possible to be dear even in perihelion
Ask the pit!
The sword that came to your throat
Anything and everything in the universe
Tore it in two:
Whatever happened to you, Hosseini
And on the other hand, Yazidi
Here we are and the stones
Mayim and waters
Trees, mountains, streams, foresters
Some of them are Yazidis
Otherwise, they are Hosseini
The blood that flows from your throat
Everything and everything in the universe was torn in two in color!
Everything is either red
Oh, it’s not Hosseini!
Ah, death in your standard!
Your death made such a mockery of life
And he underestimated it
that you die like that
Envy became a big life!
your blood
Or the blood of the truth
It stood in a level
And your determination became the guarantee of the durability of the world
– that the world is sprinkled with lies –
And your blood is the signature of “truth”.
You should be seen in truth
and in the plant,
when you go
in water,
when he drinks
in stone
Because it is standing
in the sword,
When it splits
and in milk,
that roars;
In the twilight that is rosy
There is blood in the belly
wanting to get up;
You should be seen in Shaghaiq
smell in the flower
You should be asked from the sun
Search at dawn
Bloomed from the night
sprinkled with seeds
sprinkled with the wind
Arranged in clusters
You should be seen only in God.
Everyone, whenever, their own hand
He brought the truth out of trouble
Your blood runs through his fingers
Eternity is a mirror
In front of your stature in determination
The sun is not worthy
Otherwise I would have said
The spark is your look.
You are lonelier than your courage
In the clear corner of the conscience of history
you are standing
To protect the truth
and honesty
The sweetest smile
Your will is on your lips
So bright and loud
that when watching
The hat falls off the head of the child of reason.
On a pond of his own blood
In the passage of history, you stand with a cup of culture
And you drink the humanity of the passer-by
Anyone who is thirsty for martyrdom
Your name disturbs sleep
It storms the water
Your word is the law
Wisdom, against your determination, madness
Your only word is blood, blood
O God!
death in your paw
It is more eloquent than a fly
that children are mischievously punched
And Yazid, an excuse,
dirty napkin
in which they spat the phlegm of oppression
And they threw history in the garbage
Yazid was not a word
It was a lie
Large leech
which sucks oxygen from the air
Misogyny that was a man’s slander
Bozine with a big sin:
“Stealing the Name of Man”
And peace be upon you
You are the most oppressed
Not because they martyred you
But because this is your enemy
red death
He broke only nine names of Yazid
And he made the word oppression boring
which also destroys words
There is no human word
That it does not break in front of you, milk breaker!
Your blood is on the word
Your blood in the bed from the other side of the word
beyond history
Out of time
it passes
Your blood flows in the text of God
Oh Zabihullah
You are God’s chosen Ishmael
And Ibrahim’s dream is connected to reality
Karbala is your time
Muharram, the month of love
This post is written by monese_ghamgosar