I pray...

I pray you will be our eyes, and watch us where we go.
And help us to be wise in times when we do not know.

Let this be our prayer, when we lose our way.
Lead us to a place, guide us with your grace ...
to a place where we will be safe.

I pray we will find your light,
And hold it in our hearts...
When stars go out each night,
Remind us where you are...

Let this be our prayer,
When shadows fill our day.
Lead us to a place,
Guide us with your grace,
Give us faith so we will be safe.

Lead us to a place, guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we will be safe...
Let this be our prayer,
Just like every child...

["The Prayer" by Andrea Bocelli in a duet with Celine Dion]

My nights are painted bright with your dream...

My nights are painted bright with your dream, sweet love.
and heavy with your fragrance is my breast
you fill my eyes with your presence, sweet love.
giving me more happiness than grief.

like rain washing through the soil
you have washed my life clean.
you are the heartbeat of my burning body;
a fire blazing in the shade of my eyelashes.

You have touched me with the frenzy of poetry;
pouring fire into my songs,
kindling my heart with the fever of love,
thus setting all my poems ablaze, sweet love.

["Love song" by late Forough Farrokhzad, Iranian contemporary poetess and filmmaker, translation into English by Mr. Karim Emami]
[Courtesy of www.forughfarrokhzad.org]

How close I am to the river, to the trees...

...Life is a beautiful tradition...
...Life has two wings wide as the eternity...a step as great as love...

...Life is not a thing to be forgotten in our daily errands...it is as simple as picking a spring flower...
...Life is the beauty of the tree in the eyes of birds...

...Life is the experience of the darkness in the minds of butterflies...
...Life is the exact strange sense that all the migrating birds have...

...Life is the traverse of a train over a bridge...
...Life is watching a beautiful garden out of the sealed windows of the airplane...the vibrant news of human travel to the moon...feeling that how "alone" was the moon before...

...Life is as simple as washing a glass in the memories of the river...

...No matter wherever I am, all the skies are mine,...all the windows, wisdom, air, love...the earth is mine... sometimes I need not care this much about all these painful separations…

…We do not need to understand the mystery of the red roses…all we might do perhaps…is to be astonished by the beauty of the roses…
…Perhaps, we need to gain that apercu and knowledge to be charmed by the green leaves…

…We might be born everyday by the rise of the sun…make our breaths full of the eternity…go up to the magnificent heights of love whenever it rains…

…Maybe, the only thing we need to do…is…to run after the beautiful song of the truth…


[Free translation by H. Ataei of "Voice of the footsteps of water" by late Sohrab Sepehri, Iranian poet and painter]
[For more information on his life, works and photos, you may see this link: www.sohrabsepehri.com]

On the other side of the seas...

On the other side of the seas, lies a land... with all the windows of its houses opening upto the face of the beloved...

How insightful the children are overthere...and people...the attention they give to a simple thing is as if they are just looking at fire or seeing a beautiful dream...

...even the ground underneath your feet...can hear the subtle music of your emotions...and winds bring all the beautiful tales of the childhood...

On the other side of the seas, lies a land...with all the poets there inherited the honesty, purity, wisdom and truth...

On the other side of the seas, lies a land...There should be a boat to there...



[Free translation by H. Ataei of "On the other side of the seas" by late Sohrab Sepehri, Iranian poet and painter]

This story of love...

...Oh, from where I need to recite this story of love?...

...how can I feel being this far to you?... haven't I seen you always this close in my dreams?...

...you are the only angel to my tearful eyes...isn't it so hard for me closing them on you to hide my tears?...

...Oh, from where I need to recite this story of love? ...

...this great desire...this little patience...shall I be able to find the truth one day?...

...maybe it is too sad to say...but...how am I going to share my lonely nights with my tears forever?...

...Oh, from where I need to recite this story of love? ...

Happy Eid al Fitr...

...All the days of fasting, all the nights of gatherings...
...All the good deeds be done, all the prayers be made...

...All the innocent whispers of broken hearts with the source of pure love...
...All the sharings of honesty, purity and faith, all the sharings of thoughts...

...All the valuable moments blessed with the presence of his name...
...All the recitations of his holy words and the words of his very special ones...

...All of these...may be accepted by the Almighty...from us all and from you...
...En shaa Allah...

...Happy Eid...to everyone...may this day be a day of re-birth for us all...



[Eid Ecard: courtesy of www.Praytime.info/ecard.php,
© 2006 PrayTime.info. All rights reserved]

Monaajaat...

To one and the only one, to the most eternal, to the most compassionate, to the most beloved, to the most beautiful, to the most powerful and to the most merciful...

To God...to one who created all the heavens and universe...created all the humans and honered them to be his servants to serve other people and to find their ways towards him...

To one whose favor to them went beyond by sending down prophets - as very special humans - to show them the way...

To one who never sleeps, who never dies, who never have had a child and nothing is like him in the whole universe...to the only one who never forgets his creatures...every and each one of them...all of the creatures...

To the only one I always find his door open to run into...to the only one I always find his face smiling to share all my misery of a sinful person I am...To the only one I always dare to express all my repentance several several times...

To the only one who is the best support for the disappointed...for the vulnerable...the only one who never forgets the forgotten...who never closes his eternal doors of mercy to the faces of his people...

To the most beloved, to the most merciful, to the most beautiful...


[Photo: courtesy of "Rain" photoblog by Mr. Mehdi Ahmadizadeh]

...Harsher than any pain, separation...

The beautiful song of "Ayrilig" is one of the most beautiful folk songs composed by late Ali Salimi (Iranian composer, 1922-1997) and performed by late Rashid Behboudov (Azeri Tenor Legend, 1915-1988).
Mr. Samadov (the person who also performed Sari Galin) has performed it by traditional Azeri instrument called "Baalaabaan"...



Ayrilig (= Separation)
[Azerbaijani lyrics by Farhad Ibrahimi]
[From: © Azerbaijan International 2002. All rights reserved]


I cannot sleep at nights, thinking of you...
I cannot get these thoughts out of my mind;
What am I to do since I cannot reach you?

Oh, separation, separation, painful separation...
It's harsher than any pain, separation...
The dark nights are so long in your absence.
I don't know where to go in the dark distance.
The nights have injured my heart so much...
Oh, separation, separation, painful separation...

When I remember your hazel eyes,
I ask the stars of your whereabouts.
Have you forgotten me, now that we are apart?
Oh, separation, separation, painful separation...

Sari Galin (Yellow Bride)

You may have heard the song "Sari Galin" performed by Mr. Alizadeh and Mr. Gasparyan at the album "Be tamaashaay-e abhaay-e sepid"...one of the most emotional folklore and very old beautiful Azeri songs...
There, Mr. Gasparyan performs it by Flute and not "Baalaabaan" which is traditional Azeri instrument.

Wish you enjoy this beautiful and emotional piece as much as I do...

One of my beloved friends, Dr. Amir Sadjadpour, shared this:
" So interesting to see that love was there all the time, till they finally meet. Right at this moment, they get separated by God. Strangely romantic. I wonder if there undelies a hidden lesson as well?"

As a reply: I myself do not know the secret, maybe it is a way to imply and remind the listener that how valuable "Vesaal (The moment that lover meets the beloved)" is despite all these seperations...because almost at all Azeri folklore pieces that I know this bitter seperation exists...
Remember when in "Sari Galin", the guy advises his yellow bride not to pick the flower when it is young...it implies that his flower (sari galin) was just be seperated and be picked away from him when they were in love with eachother...
so emotional and so beautifully subtle...



Yellow Bride
[Translated into English by Ms. Farida Aghayeva]
[From: © Azerbaijan International]

Don't braid the end of your hair,
Don't pluck the flower while it's young, yellow bride.
Don't braid the end of your hair,
Don't pluck the flower while it's young, yellow bride.

We were born to love eachother,
You are the only one on earth, in life, in the sky.
You are my sunshine, my fire.
I fell in love with you on a moonlit night
The sun, a man and yellow bride,
The only star, land and your breath,
I love life, life is you.

My eyes that see you are full of eagerness,
You came into my dream like a ray, yellow bride.
What kind of love is this? They won't let me marry you.
What should I do, what should I do, yellow bride?
What kind of love is this? They won't give you to me.

It's me, looking for you among the stars.
Answer me, don't break my heart!
I will breathe with your warm breath,
I will remember you all my life,

Enough, dry your tears, don't cry!
Don't keep the fire in your heart too long,
Your destined happiness is written on your forehead.
Pure love within one night.

But this is only a dream and you are in my dream,
You are my yellow bride among my wishes.
What kind of love is this? They won't let us marry.
What should I do, what should I do, yellow bride?
What kind of love is this? They won't give you to me.

It's us, only us and the sky,
You came to me in this utter night.
The light woke me up,
And we got separated among the stars.

Oh, God, hear my crying,
I felt this sharp pain in my heart,
Love is a game and I was winning,
I couldn't imagine such an end.
But you wanted death,

You achieved your goal in the end, yellow bride.
What kind of love is this? They won't let me marry you.
What should I do, what should I do, yellow bride?
You are my yellow bride,
You are my yellow bride.

Along this valley,
Give the lamb back to me, shepherd...
You are my yellow bride...

...The poems never die to me...

"Greetings, Heydar Baba"
(A mountain near Tabriz, Iran)
By: Late Mohammad Hossein Shahriyar (Behjat-e Tabrizi)
English Translation from Azeri by: Dr. Hassan Javadi


Heydar Baba, when the thunder resounds across the skies,
When floods roar down the mountainsides,
And the girls line up to watch it rushing by,
Send my greetings to the tribesmen and the village folks...
And remember me and my name once more.

Heydar Baba, when pheasants take flight,
And the rabbits scurry from flowering bush,
When your garden burst into full bloom,
May those who remember us live long...
And may our saddened hearts be gladdened.

When the March wind strikes down the bowers,
Primrose and snowdrops appear from the frozen earth,
When the clouds wing their white shirts,
Let us be remembered once again
Let our sorrows rise up like a mountain.

Heydar Baba, let your back bear the mark of the sun.
Let your streams weep and your face beam with smiles.
Let your children put together a bouquet
And send it to us when the wind blows this way
So that, perhaps, our sleepy fortune be awakened.

Haydar Baba, may your brows be bright.
May you be circled by streams and gardens.
And after us, may you live long.
This world is full of misfortunes and losses.
The world is replete with those bereaved of sons and orphaned.

Heydar Baba, my steps never crossed your pass...
My life was spent, becoming too late to visit you...
I know not what became of all those beautiful girls...
I never knew about deadends, about paths of "no return".
I never knew about separation, loss and death.



[From: © Azerbaijan International 1993. All rights reserved]

The Cold Stove...

Surviving from very distant nights...
At a silent road in the woods...
A little stove made of stones...
Contains some cold ashes.

Just like all my thoughts buried in the dust...
Bearing sketches of everything...
A tale whose end is nothing but pain...

My good days that agreed with me...
Have all become an incongruous sketch...
They have grown cold and turned into stone...

Surviving from very distant nights...
At a silent road in the woods...
A little stove made of stones...
Contains some cold ashes...

[By: Nima Yooshij, Father of Iranian contemporary poetry...Translated to English by M. Alexandrian]

In a cold winter night...

In a cold winter night...
The furnace of the sun also... seems to be not that warm and inspiring...
And its light is not as luminous as the light of my heart...
Even the shining moon above, seems to be frozen...

I lit up the lamp of my heart when the neighbors were walking in dark nights...
And it was a cold winter night...
The wind encircled the pine...

I lost my beloved, separated from me in this narrow lane...
And still the story is remembered...
And on my lips these words lingered:
"Who is going to light? Who is going to luminate the path?
Who is going to keep this tale in the heart?"

In a cold winter night...
The furnace of the sun also... seems to be not that warm and inspiring...
And its light is not as luminous as the light of my heart...
Even the shining moon above, seems to be frozen...

[Free translation by me of "In a cold winter night", by: Nima Yooshij, Father of Iranian contemporary poetry...]

Still waiting for you...

Nima Yooshij (1897 - 1960) shortly called Nima, was a contemporary Persian poet who started the "new poetry" also known as "Nimai poetry" trend in Iran. He is considered as the father of modern Persian poetry... [Wikipedia]

My beloved homeland...

O' The most beloved one...
O' The most touching love song...

Indeed, you are the pure poems of the tulips...
...The everlasting tulips...

O' My beloved homeland...
The only hope of my life...

The only sunrise never sets...
The only rain to the desert of my soul...

O' the only eternal reason of my being...
O' living under the holy name of you...
My soul is so dependant upon you...

The only beacon in the stormy sea...
O' The only everlasting voice...
O' The only eternal love song...

O' My beloved homeland...
O' My beloved Iran...

[Mount Damavand, the highest summit in Iran, 5671 meters high, silent volcanic heights for many years, always covered by snow and natural glacials...Tehran, Iran]
[Translated into English by H. Ataei]

Life is beautiful...

...Few steps to the tree, there is a road greener than dreams of the divine...
And there, love is just as blue as honesty...

How green I was today...and how great is all my body and soul...

I feel something in my heart...just like a woods of light...just like a short nap in the morning...
And I am so unpatient that I want to run...to the end of the fields...to the highest heights of the mountains...

There is a voice calling me from far far away...

Life worths living for...for loving...for experiencing of eating an apple...for having faith...
For sure we should enjoy living...till all these beautiful flowers exist...

[Free translation by H. Ataei of Sohrab Sepehri's poems, late Iranian poet and artist]

...So far...so close...

...No clouds in the sky...no wind whistles...
Sitten peacefully by the water...looking at my solitude perhaps...

Listen up, a bird is singing far far away...
A peaceful plain night it is...trees can even hear the song of the moon...

Listen up, the road is calling you start your journey...
Should not your eyes be the only light in the darkness...

Open your eyes, clean up the eyelids from all the dusts...
Wear your shoes and commence...
Roll it to the point that your fingertips touch feathers of the moon...
and to the point that beautiful songs of the night attract your soul and your body...

A wise man there will tell you perhaps:
"The best thing in the world is finding a pair of eyes covered by tears of feeling the true love..."

[A free translation by me of late Sohrab Sepehri's poems, Iranian poet and artist, 1928-1981]

Salaam

In the name of him...with the help of him...in the memory of him...In the name of God...the one and the only one...the most merciful and the most beautiful...