می ترسم

Mahnaz Badihian

I Despair

I Despair
Of the decay of their god
Of the sounds of "God is great"
Atop Minarets
Atop a Trade Center
And on the bloody streets of Tehran


I Despair
Of black Chadors
And the men with long beards
Who make philosophy tremble
With their eyes on our private parts

I Despair
Of our taken streets
Of turbans
Of black cloaks
And of the word "Whore" in their mouths
And the word "Faggot" in their words
All of which smell of death

I love the flowers in the garden
Who don't carry swords or clubs
Who don't gossip
And whose breath smells of perfume

Fill my world with flowers and greenery
With the songs of love and freedom
Of equal borders
And cities of minstrels

Come play on the banks of my Zayandeh-Rud
Dance on asphalt streets
And let sun shine on the girl’s tresses

I Despair
Of the hands that put scarves on the heads of statues
And a veil on the face of roses

I Despair
Of people with grudges
Of loads of jealousy with pettiness

I Despair
Of the sounds of guns and tanks
Of images of mushroom clouds
Of images of burnt victims on roads with no sunrise

I Despair
Of all the sorrow in the voice of people
Of so much sorrow for their homeland
Of separation of roots
Let the saplings arise from their slender, unbroken roots

I Despair
Of the wounds on my mother's breast
At the time of death
And her last breathe in a foreign land

I Despair
Of a world in which flowers fear the sun
And I’m afraid of falling in love

I’m Afraid
Of a garden which fears the seed
And its morning glories are depressed at dawn

Tie me to the sun rays
To the mountain tops
Throw me to the notes of music
To my daughter’s enchanted voice
And to her eternal small hands

I Despair
Of the harsh hands of oppression
Of the hands of men who twist the necks of birds