I pass by the orchards of Aleppo,
easy view, and live the afghans
And say to Dahman, if you face him,
You say to the morally disturbed we are afflicted
you caught the stinger, and
You have given only the few and the low
I had no hope in sane people,
How did I hope for the best in the madmen?
don’t be proud, Your father is not attributed to
Bahram Gore, nor Bahram Shubin
not the anus, I did not reprimand him,
And do not stay away from Kisra and Sirin
If the Persian hills rise from honor,
Your sheikhs have gone to bed in the tabbyn
arched over the barband, they amaze them
sonic boom, and the sounds of the windmills
performed externally, when you betrayed him,
Alive Nada dead in Mush Madfoun
remnant of the sea’s bounty
about the green moss, the mud
If you forget the blindness that came before,
I was like you in this world and in religion * *******