26 kwietnia 2012
(( Empty ))
The Sun sets dauntlessly,
small pools of water halt vaporizing,
and once again, jackals,
the ever ready jarring predators
pounce on the vulnerable nests of birds.
Thus rises a call from the West,
and another cry from the East.
Night will fall on a Blacksmith,
whose "Kaviyani" Pennant is covered with dust,
and darkness is the same as a napery,
which resembles the Dead-Eating Explorers.
Do not abandon me!
In this "Unholy Land",
the Shrine I have chosen,
has been bewitched by those,
who forge words and statures .
(( Poet: Seyed Morteza Hamidzadeh ))
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