Maternal One

Poem by: Abotalib Mozafari

Translationed into Enlish by: Mir Hussain Mahdavi



Hello mother

We all became disobedient

We were lost in the starvation year of sentiments


Hello mother, your infant grew up

But alas your cute kid turned to a wolf


Mother, we are all captivated by wizard’s horror

The given evil eye made us all immoral


Mother! Dispel the runic depravement of our behavior

Tide up a talisman of your kindness on our shoulders


Oh moon, we became tigers and you burned

We became gun owners and you burned


You have asked me that where is the moon, where are the stars

But I’m wondering where the expanse of the sky is


Where are the upper village’s maidens

Where are Golchehra, Goagha and golsha


Golsha blossomed, became young and finally gloomed (sullen)

And she became bride in the parched dissert of Taftan


Lucky Gochehra, she could enough pine

One night at border of homeland, she was shot to death

Her memento, just a red plume has remained and nothing else

But a broken honor has remained from us and nothing else



The globe now is cup of blood and no anything else

It’s a wound, a fire and insanity


Tonight the infernal attack of wind is spectacular

The throe of neck and steel is spectacular


Blown four different positions, running toward four sides

Now this is me,  like a fall-displaced windwondering in the world


Now this is me, two feet are swollen in the way

Now this is me, the traveler of this could blood earth


Let me wash myself in the spring of blood

Let me speak towards mountain


This mountain is a brother for my shoulders

Let me speak to my own brother


The mountain is miscarried of men’s ambushesand shouts

This grove has remained orphan for seven years in a row


Suddenly old cedars have been root out

The men of this lover tribe have been wrapped up in coffins



We sold the windy horse of pride, the sword and the bow

We sold the mouth and the fiery tongue


The nice shape bodies are addicted to bent statues

Wry men are addicted to the smile of gold


We’re setting slightly to ambush of our own selves

Hoping to see our last one is burning


We’re setting now to see the rage snakes

Appear from somebody’s drunken shoulder


Some people are planning to avow honor and dignity

To satisfy the golden hat of a ruling person


They died  just for the sake of  putting food on their tables

They haven’t seen a storm to become a believer


Finally, they have taken their clothes from this arena

Long live the glory of their throne and their luck














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