Yes, thats right, its my
hand, your handmaids hand,
you have the authority
of your hands for me, dear to me
, you are innocent and
your patience is as if you are a light
everywhere, you are and you are
not always just somehow
, I just know that you are bold, I will mention your name
if it is not rude, your hands and I would like
it if it is not rude, my breath is yours
up to my eyes like a shadow, after you
you are your eternal love,
your immortal nature
, you are present, you are absent,
you are possible and impossible. The secret of Hafizs poetry is
the secret of every ode
you have not written a poem
You have not drawn a plan You
are the owner of certainty
Your earthly journey
is your cause, you are your
destination the purest
you are the sun, you are your moonlight
find, you are rare you
first, you are the last
of you awakening every dream,
I am a slave, you are
your lord from the star, you are more of
a believer, you are your Sufi,
you are far away, and Qalandar is a
hand sent from the sky
, whatever it is, it is bad and has not taught your hands
My story is the story of the leopards rise. The side of the moon
for the eyes of the maidservantSleep a lot
of you, you are of the kind of dawn, your poetic silk
, the cause of your first ambiguous poetic creation,
your best shepherd, your saint and angel
, the discoverer of words and voices, the discoverer of calligraphy and writing,
how spectacular, your healing hands,
the closed eyes of this tired maidservant, and make
this a new birthday, blessed and dear,
when my lord calls me by my first name,
I wish I could smell your clothes,
shoes, etc. I will take off your feet
at the door of your shoes and pair them under
your feet...
Tehran, 1976-1976, 1976 This
song was not liked by the supporters of equality between men and women, and I am still
struggling with this song today. However, do not forget that insolence is the sorrow of the
grandmother, the story of submission and remaining silent, the story of the old wounds of the
oriental woman.
