He sings in the valley of silence with the fog, the morning humber, as if the house had been shaken , the ashes of the herd were poured on his head, the ashes of the herd had been opened with his groaning, the heavens had been
broken, every grain went from it , the women rolled on the soil, whatever it was, and the deceit [ Persian Music on IranSong] seemed to go to me like the height of a friend , woe, to the path of the master of deception and the heart of my myth. He is with me, he is with me, he is still holding his tongue so that I can be as tall as him, because I am not looking away from him , he opens his smile to my face.
