ز پوچ جهان هیچ اگر دوست دارم، تو را ای کهن بوم و بر دوست دارم

ز پوچ جهان هیچ اگر دوست دارم
ترا، ای کهن بوم و بر دوست دارم

 

ترا، ای کهن پیر جاوید برنا
ترا دوست دارم، اگر دوست دارم

 

ترا، ای گرانمایه، دیرینه ایران
ترا ای گرامی گهر دوست دارم

 

ترا، ای کهن زاد بوم بزرگان
بزرگ آفرین نامور دوست دارم

 

هنروار اندیشه ات رخشد و من
هم اندیشه ات، هم هنر دوست دارم

 

اگر قول افسانه، یا متن تاریخ
وگر نقد و نقل سیر دوست دارم

 

اگر خامه تیشه ست و خط نقر در سنگ
بر اوراق کوه و کمر دوست دارم

 

وگر ضبط دفتر ز مشکین مرکب
نئین خامه، یا کلک پر دوست دارم

 

گمان های تو چون یقین می ستایم
عیان های تو چون خبر دوست دارم

 

هم اورمزد و هم ایزدانت پرستم
هم آن فره و فروهر دوست دارم

 

بجان پاک پیغمبر باستانت
که پیری است روشن نگردوست دارم

 

گرانمایه زرتشت را من فزونتر
ز هر پیر و پیغامبر دوست دارم

 

بشر بهتر از او ندید و نبیند
من آن بهترین از بشر دوست دارم

 

سه نیکش بهین رهنمای جهان ست
مفیدی چنین مختصر دوست دارم

 

ابر مرد ایرانئی راهبر بود
من ایرانی راهبر دوست دارم

 

نه کشت و نه دستور کشتن به کس داد
ازینروش هم معتبر دوست دارم

 

من آن راستین پیر را، گرچه رفته ست
از افسانه آن سوی تر، دوست دارم

 

هم آن پور بیدار دل بامدادت
نشابوری هورفر دوست دارم

 

فری مزدک، آن هوش جاوید اعصار
که ش از هر نگاه و نظر دوست دارم

 

دلیرانه جان باخت در جنگ بیداد
من آن شیر دل دادگر دوست دارم

 

جهانگیر و داد آفرین فکرتی داشت
فزونترش زین رهگذر دوست دارم

 

ستایش کنان مانی ارجمندت
چو نقاش و پیغامور دوست دارم

 

هم آن نقش پرداز ارواح برتر
هم ارژنگ آن نقشگر دوست دارم

 

همه کشتزارانت، از دیم و فاراب
همه دشت و در، جوی و جر دوست دارم

 

کویرت چو دریا و کوهت چو جنگل
همه بوم و بر، خشک و تر دوست دارم

 

شهیدان جانباز و فرزانه ات را
که بودند فخر بشر دوست دارم

 

به لطف نسیم سحر روحشان را
چنانچون ز آهن جگر دوست دارم

 

هم افکار پرشورشان را، که اعصار
از آن گشته زیر و زبر دوست دارم

 

هم آثارشان را، چه پندو چه پیغام
و گر چند، سطری خبر دوست دارم

 

من آن جاودنیاد مردان، که بودند
بهر قرن چندین نفر دوست دارم

 

همه شاعران تو و آثارشان را
بپاکی نسیم سحر دوست دارم

 

ز فردوسی، آن کاخ افسانه کافراخت
در آفاق فخر و ظفر دوست دارم

 

ز خیام، خشم و خروشی که جاوید
کند در دل و جان اثر دوست دارم

 

ز عطار، آن سوز و سودای پر درد
که انگیزد از جان شرر دوست دارم

 

وز آن شیفته شمس، شور و شراری
که جان را کند شعله ور دوست دارم

 

ز سعدی و از حافظ و از نظامی
همه شور و شعر و سمر دوست دارم

 

خوشا رشت و گرگان و مازندرانت
که شان همچو بحر خزر دوست دارم

 

خوشا حوزه شرب کارون و اهواز
که شیرینترینش از شکر دوست دارم

 

فری آذر آبادگان بزرگت
من آن پیشگام خطر دوست دارم

 

صفاهان نصف جهان ترا من
فزونتر ز نصف دگر دوست دارم

 

خوشا خطه نخبه زای خراسان
ز جان و دل آن پهنه ور دوست دارم

 

زهی شهر شیراز جنت طرازت
من آن مهد ذوق و هنر دوست دارم

 

بر و بوم کرد و بلوچ ترا چون
درخت نجابت ثمر دوست دارم

 

خوشا طرف کرمان و مرز جنوبت
که شان خشک و تر، بحر و بر دوست دارم

 

من افغان همریشه مان را که باغی ست
به چنگ بتر از تتر دوست دارم

 

کهن سغد و خوارزم را، با کویرش
که شان باخت دوده ی قجر دوست دارم

 

عراق و خلیج تو را، چون وَراَزورد
که دیوار چین راست در دوست دارم

 

هم اران و قفقاز دیرینه مان را
چو پوری سرای پدر دوست دارم

 

چو دیروز افسانه، فردای رویات
بجان این یک و آن دگر دوست دارم

 

هم افسانه ات را، که خوشتر ز طفلان
برو یاندم بال و پر دوست دارم

 

هم آفاق رویائیت را؛ که جاوید
در آفاق رویا سفر دوست دارم

 

چو رویا و افسانه، دیروز و فردات
بجای خود این هر دو سر دوست دارم

 

تو در اوج بودی، به معنا و صورت
من آن اوج قدر و خطر دوست دارم

 

دگر باره برشو به اوج معانی
که ت این تازه رنگ و صوردوست دارم

 

نه شرقی، نه غربی، نه تازی شدن را
برای تو، ای بوم و بر دوست دارم

 

جهان تا جهانست، پیروز باشی
برومند و بیدار و بهروز باشی

 

مهدی اخوان ثالث

 

 

ای آسمان ایرانم

ای آسمان ایرانم
ببار بر پیکر بی جانم

باران پاک و زلالت از تو پایین می آید
تا بشوید زندان را از تیرگی چشمانم

نیست ندایی جز خاموشی
بنشان ابرهایت را بر خشکی زبانم

نیست نگاهی جز شیوایی
بزن توندرت را بر چفت این دستانم

نیست آلودگی به دلها جز از غم یارانم
بکش رنگین کمانت بر سوگ بی پایانم

آسودگی چه آسان به آرزو بدل شد
از آبیت بسازان روزهای بی شبانم

نشستم و ندیدم از ابرهای سپیدت
جز سایه ای که افتاد بر پای بی روانم

چشمم بر امیدی از آبی بیکرانت
با دیدن سپیده از تو ای مهربانم

گفتار اندر یاد دیگران به نیکی

کسی را که نام آمد اندر میان
به نیکوترین نام و نعتش بخوان
چو همواره گویی که مردم خرند
مبر ظن که نامت چو مردم برند
چنان گوی سیرت به کوی اندرم
که گفتن توانی به روی اندرم
وگر شرمت از دیده ی ناظرست
نه ای بی بصر، غیب دان حاضرست؟
نیاید همی شرمت از خویشتن
کز او فارغ و شرم داری ز من؟

سعدی، بوستان

یادی از مرغ سحر

مرغ سحر ناله سر کن
داغ مرا تازه تر کن
ز آه شرر بار این قفس را
بر شکن و زیر و زبر کن
بلبل پر بسته ز کنج قفس در آ
نغمه آزادی نوع بشر سرا
وز نفسی عرصه این خاک توده را
پر شرر کن
ظلم ظالم جور صیاد
آشیانم داده بر باد
ای خدا ای فلک ای طبیعت
شام تاریک ما را سحر کن
نو بهار است گل به بار است
ابر چشمم ژاله بار است
این قفس چون دلم تنگ و تار است
شعله فکن در قفس ای آه آتشین
دست طبیعت گل عمر مرا مچین
جانب عاشق نگه ای تازه گل از این بیشتر کن بیشتر کن بیشتر کن
مرغ بیدل شرح هجران مختصر مختصر کن

(روانشاد ملک الشعرای بهار)

Together we have much more power, like a Thunder.

Together like a Thunder.
Together for our brothers.
Together for our sisters.
We share greatest love together.

We belong to the thunder.
Greatest love is we share together.
We can bring peace better,
Because we are always together.

We redeem our rights.
We do it, no one can stop us.
Tell them "You belong to the dark."
"Darkness never can hide lights."
Galaxies embrace our voice when it shines.

We belong to Iran,
The Land of Cyrus The Great and Civilization,
The Land of peaceful new generation,
Who send the unfair world power of alteration.
They went to jail, they were shot, they were killed.
They never let others move when their future shifts.
Because they belong to the thunder.
When together, they have power of thunder.

We free our Land.
We give you the fact.
We show you our peaceful union,
By taking our peaceful hands.

We belong to the thunder.
We share greatest love together.
We can bring peace is much better.
Together we have a lot of power.
Together we are like a Thunder.
Together we are like a Thunder.

Together like a Thunder.
Together for our brothers.
Together for our sisters.
We share greatest love together.

------------------
Myself
20 June 2009

What Am I?

Why think thus O men of piety
I have returned to sobriety
I am neither a Moslem nor a Hindu
I am not Christian, Zoroastrian, nor Jew

I am neither of the West nor the East
Not of the ocean, nor an earthly beast
I am neither a natural wonder
Nor from the stars yonder

Neither flesh of dust, nor wind inspire
Nor water in veins, nor made of fire
I am neither an earthly carpet, nor gems terrestrial
Nor am I confined to Creation, nor the Throne Celestial

Not of ancient promises, nor of future prophecy
Not of hellish anguish, nor of paradisic ecstasy
Neither the progeny of Adam, nor Eve
Nor of the world of heavenly make-believe

My place is the no-place
My image is without face
Neither of body nor the soul
I am of the Divine Whole.

I eliminated duality with joyous laughter
Saw the unity of here and the hereafter
Unity is what I sing, unity is what I speak
Unity is what I know, unity is what I seek

Intoxicated from the chalice of Love
I have lost both worlds below and above
Sole destiny that comes to me
Licentious mendicity

In my whole life, even if once
Forgot His name even per chance
For that hour spent, for such moment
I’d give my life, and thus repent

Beloved Master, Shams-e Tabrizi
In this world with Love I’m so drunk
The path of Love isn’t easy
I am shipwrecked and must be sunk.

---------------------------------------------------------------
By Molavi [better known as Rumi in the West],
13th-century Persian poet

Iran's Rich History in Poetic form!

The sands of time have always known
That civilization which has grown
In that plateau we call Iran
Land of the lion, land of the sun

Kourosh brought unmatched glory
Dariush's Persepolis told the lasting story
Strength came from tolerance and freedom
Justice and nobility flourished in this kingdom

The greatest empire ever seen
Their lasting legacy was unforeseen
Masters of the world
The Persians' achievements must be told

Wise words of Kourosh, baked on a cylinder of clay
Respected foreign cultures, and their right to freely pray
Women were respected, and slavery abolished
Kourosh was Great, for the human rights he polished

To conquer foreign lands requires minimal exertion
But to unite an empire, is a remarkable contention
Always building and improving, and never standing still
Dariush was Great, for his administrative skill

The Royal Road, with Sardis at the end and Shooshan at the start
Was an awe of transportation, connecting Persia's heart
Who carved the Suez Canal, giving commerce speedy wings?
King Dariush, son of Hystaspes, an Achaemenid, the King of Kings


The father, with passion and pride, passed to his son
His love of law, beauty, architecture, and care of Iran
Dariush began building, but Xashayar completed these perfections
Xashayar was great, for his magnificent creations


And what of Marathon, Thermopylae, and Salamis?
Did the Greeks truly receive such bliss?
Herodotus embellished, told lies for the West
For the Persians, these were skirmishes at best


But every golden era must someday end
So too Achaemanesh's dynasty would bend
Alexander's army won, but could not see
Win or lose, Persians' hearts always stay free


Revenge, envy, and wine made Alexander yearn
The pride of Persia, Persepolis, to burn
The labor of years, by a thousand artisans employed
Took one lunatic one night, for this jewel to be destroyed

Greatness comes, from a worthy contribution
To humanity, to art, to law, or a scientific institution
Those who burn and loot deserve our hate
So answer this, was Alexander truly Great?

Now who were the barbarians, the Persians or the Greeks?
Our lowest troughs, still higher than their highest peaks
The art of empire, the Greeks could never master
Constant feuding and civil wars, left Greece in a disaster

Parthians picked up the torch of our land
Put Iranian rule back in Iranian hand
They showed Greece and Rome, to name just two
That Iran possesses great horses, and great men too

Like a Phoenix, from the ashes rising
The Sassanians arrived, with Iran reorganizing
Power, wealth, and wisdom again flourished
The rule of Ardeshir, Shapur, and Khosro let Iran be nourished

Life was based on three simple needs
Good Thoughts, Good Words, and Good Deeds
Monotheist religion, for all its evil and its good
Came from Iran, from where Zarathustra stood


Rome, for all its power and its legions
Couldn't touch Iran's vast regions
Many times Rome tried but failed
Every time cataphract armor thundered and hailed

But Sassanian wealth and beauty caught the eye
Of a desert tribe, whose religion was a lie
Like desert snakes, they ruthlessly attacked
Until beautiful Ctesiphone was sacked

Rostam-e-Farokhzad, the brave and capable general
Fought till the end, though his wounds were several
At Qaddissiya, he came to Iran's defense
Alas, the Taazi army was too dense

With coercion and the sword
Islam was able to spread its word
A dark and sinister force was born
That to this day brings Iran much scorn

Some to India had to flee
Iran's destruction was unbearable to see
Parsees, they are called to this day
Ahura Mazda, with them will always stay

But Iranian roots are strong and hard to kill
Iran was freed again, with such a thrill
The Saffarids would answer the nation's call
To make Arab tyranny shamefully fall

Don't mourn the Ashura, weep a Taazi's death
Hassan and Hossein were foreigners, who weakened Iran's breath
If mourn you must, then mourn, a national event
Like Gaugamela, or Qaddissiya, places of great lament

While Europe was stagnant in its Dark Ages
Persian scholars thrived, free from mental cages
From algebra, to astronomy, and architecture
Persians wrote the book, and gave the lecture

A time of great Persian thinkers had emerged
Where poetry and science, love and knowledge, easily verged
Saadi, Hafez, Rumi, Omar Khayam to name a few
Thanks to them, humanity exponentially grew

Arabs from time to time, try to falsely claim
These brilliant men, and their golden works of fame
Dream on, Taazi, and of this be sure:
These men were always Persian, and completely pure

Who could forget Ferdowsi, the greatest poet ever?
He gave us Sam, Zal, and Rostam, heroes both brave and clever
The Persian language, so eloquently resurrected
As The Shahnameh was written with all Arabic words neglected

Many other invaders would come again, much the same
From Genghis Khan to Teimur the Lame
They would loot, burn, and murder
The cities too proud to surrender

Though Turks and Mongols had military strength
They were lacking in cultural length
The Persian culture was too rich, to be absorbed into theirs
Instead they settled in Iran, and joined her proud heirs

It's clear from this short and simple recap
That Iran had its share of glory, as well as mishap
Our generation is unfortunate, assigned the station
Of another dark chapter, in the book of our nation

Once again Zahak is in power
His snakes consume and poison every flower
He uses religion and superstition
To enforce his selfish and malicious mission

So once more dust off the Kaviyani banner
And fly it high, in a proud and fitting manner
Zahak and his snakes will die once more
And our nation we shall yet restore

Arabs, pack your camels, and form a line
Leave this land, let the lion roar, let the sun shine
Or get thrown out, by Kaveh, and his noble flame
Return to the desert sands, from whence you came

Iran in its infancy reached the sky
Will faravahar's wings expand, will Iran soar that high?
Just lift the veil, you'll surely see
Iran's brightest days lie ahead, when the Aryans are again free

All day I think about it

All day I think about it, then at night I say it.

Where did I come from
and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.

My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place
I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,

I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,

but who is it now in my ear, who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?

Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.

Molavi (Rumi)

دلتنگ بهارم

چندی است که دلتنگ بهارم
دلتنگ از نو شدن این روزگارم
که بر ما بشیند جامه ای دیگر
بهار را ببینیم من و تو با هم

کوروش ای پاک ترین مرد زمین

اون کیه که هر نفس می خونه اسم ما رو؟
با صدایی دلنشین می شکنه طلسما رو؟
اون کیه که تو نگاهش شور یک آتشکده،
می شینه باز می خونه زمزمه های سده؟

توی دست مهربونش شاخه ی نیلوفره
هدیه ی نوروز اون آزادی مرد و زنه
با کلامی دلنشین این رو برامون سر داده
مردن توی راه اون از زندگی قشنگ تره

نبض شوق و آه من
اون تویی ای شاه من
تویی تو آغاز من
سوز این آواز من
کوروش ای پاک ترین مرد زمین، ما رو تا اوج ترانه ببر و نزار غمین

بوی خاک و بوی گل، آبی خلیج پارس
سبز و سرخ، سپید پاک اینها رمز و راز ماست
از خاک مقبرتم ایران ما جون می گیره
خشت خشت اورشلیم از تو سامون می گیره

کورش ای پاک ترین مرد زمین، ما رو تا اوج ترانه ببر و نزار غمین

Who is he that every breath called our name?
With the pleasant sound breaks the talismans?
Who is he that with his look, passion of a Fire temple,
arrives and calls again whispers of Sadeh?
He has a lotus flower branch in his kind hand.
His Norouz gift is freedom for men and women.
With verbal pleasant, he has delivered this message.
Death in his way is more beautiful than life.
The pulse of my joy and pain,
is you, oh my king.
You are my beginning,
Burning of my this singing.

Kourosh, oh brightest man on earth,
Take us to the peak of song and don't left us sad.
Smell of soil and flower, the blue of Persian Gulf,
Green and red, bright white, are our mystery.
From the soil of your tomb, our Iran becomes alive again,
Clay by clay of Jerusalem takes capability.

Kourosh, oh brightest man on earth,
Take us to the peak of song and don't left us sad.

Simorgh

Phoenix in Persian Simurgh or Simorgh, sometimes spelled Simurg or Simoorg, also known as Angha and Faghfos is the modern Persian name for a fabulous, benevolent, mythical flying creature. The figure can be found in all periods of Greater Iranian art and literature, and is evident also in the iconography of medieval Armenia, Byzantium and other regions which were within the sphere of Iranian cultural influence.
The name 'Simorgh' (Persian: سيمرغ) derives from Middle Persian Pahlavi Senmurv, Sēnmurw (and earlier Sēnmuruγ), also attested in Middle Persian Pāzand as Sīna-Mrū. The Middle Persian term derives in turn from Avestan mərəγō Saēnō "the bird Saēna", originally a raptor, likely an eagle, falcon or sparrowhawk, as can be deduced from the etymologically identical Sanskrit śyenaḥ which also appears as a divine figure. Saēna is also found as a personal name which is derived from the bird's name.


Mythology

---

Form and function

The simorgh is depicted in Iranian art as a winged creature in the shape of a bird, gigantic enough to carry off an elephant or a whale. It appears as a kind of peacock with the head of a dog and the claws of a lion; sometimes however also with a human face. The simorgh is inherently benevolent and unambiguously female. Being part mammal, she suckles her young. The Simorgh has teeth. It has an enmity towards snakes and its natural habitat is a place with plenty of water. Its feathers are said to be the colour of copper, and though it was originally described as being a Dog-Bird, later it was shown with either the head of a man or a dog.
"Si-", the first element in the name, has been connected in folk etymology to Modern Persian si ("thirty"). Although this prefix is not historically related to the origin of the name Simorgh, "thirty" has nonetheless been the basis for legends incorporating that number, for instance, that the Simorgh was as large as thirty birds or had thirty colours (siræng).
Iranian legends consider the bird so old that it had seen the destruction of the World three times over. The Simorgh learned so much by living so long that it is thought to possess the knowledge of all the Ages. In one legend, the Simorgh was said to live 1700 years before plunging itself into flames (much like the phoenix).
The Simorgh was considered to purify the land and waters and hence bestow fertility. The creature represented the union between the earth and the sky, serving as mediator and messenger between the two. The Simorgh roosted in Gaokerena, the Hōm (Avestan: Haoma) Tree of Life, which stands in the middle of the world sea Vourukhasa. The plant is potent medicine, is called all-healing, and the seeds of all plants are deposited on it. When the Simorgh took flight, the leaves of the tree of life shook making all the seeds of every plant to fall out. These seeds floated around the world on the winds of Vayu-Vata and the rains of Tishtrya, in cosmology taking root to become every type of plant that ever lived, and curing all the illnesses of mankind.
The relationship between the Simorgh and the Hōm is extremely close. Like Simurgh, Hōm is represented as a bird, a messenger, and as the essence of purity which can heal any illness or wound. Hōm - appointed as the first priest - is the essence of divinity, a property it shares with Simorgh. The Hōm is in addition the vehicle of farr(ah) (MP: khwarrah, Avestan: khvarenah, kavaēm kharēno) "[divine] glory" or "fortune". Farrah in turn represents the divine mandate which was the foundation of a king's authority. It appears as a bird resting on the head or shoulder of would-be kings and clerics, so indicating Ormuzd's acceptance of that individual as His divine representative on earth. For the commoner Bahram wraps fortune/glory "around the house of the worshipper, for wealth in cattle, like the great bird Saena, and as the watery clouds cover the great mountains" (Yasht 14.41, cf. the rains of Tishtrya above). Like Simorgh, farrah is also associated with the waters of Vourukasha (Yasht 19.51,.56-57).
In the 12th century Conference of the Birds, Iranian Sufi poet Farid ud-Din Attar wrote of a band of pilgrim birds in search of the Simurgh. According to the poet's tale, the Simurgh has thirty holes in her beak and drew the wind through them whenever she was hungry. Animals heard a pretty music and gathered at the peak of a mountain where they were eaten by the Simurgh. Through cultural assimilation the Simurgh was introduced to the Arabic-speaking world, where the concept was conflated with other Arabic mythical birds such as the Ghoghnus and developed as the Rukh (the origin of the English word "Roc").

In the Shahnameh

The Simorgh made its most famous appearance in the Ferdowsi's epic Shahname (Book of Kings), where its involvement with the Prince Zal is described. According to the Shahname, Zal, the son of Saam, was born albino. When Saam saw his albino son, he assumed that the child was the spawn of devils, and abandoned the infant on the mountain Alborz.
The child's cries were carried to the ears of the tender-hearted Simorgh, who lived on top this peak, and she retrieved the child and raised him as her own. Zal was taught much wisdom from the loving Simorgh, who has all knowledge, but the time came when he grew into a man and yearned to rejoin the world of men. Though the Simorgh was terribly saddened, she gifted him with three golden feathers which he was to burn if he ever needed her assistance.
Upon returning to his kingdom, Zal fell in love and married the beautiful Rudaba. When it came time for their son to be born, the labour was prolonged and terrible; Zal was certain that his wife would die in labour. Rudabah was near death when Zal decided to summon the Simurgh. The Simorgh appeared and instructed him upon how to perform a cesarean section thus saving Rudabah and the child, who became one of the greatest Persian heroes, Rostam.

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