از خداوند می‌گوید

One of the reasons for this poem is something that speaks of God. کار را می‌کردم، ممکن است مشکلاتی پیش می‌آمد

I see on the corner of the street that they did not give me the right to do this, if I did this, there might have been some problems.

The people who come and go on these streets are not knives. وقتی که من تنها هستم

So why do I keep coming back to the house in pieces? Especially when I am alone. است

This doctor is like a sword that sheds light in my throat. ستش داشت

Why should I love someone who doesn’t even see what I have eaten?

Can I see the two edges of the door? Which hand should I take? ه دارند

In my imagination, I am afraid of the earrings that have two blades.

They have carved a hanging face. I was a soldier of this flag, which was my homeland.

So what is this blood that is flowing from the wind? Living. ندگان

Among the two crooked branches, there is a civil proposal for refugees.

“Carrying from blade to blade, born of the season of egg-laying, your blade” پاشنه‌هایش می‌درخشند

My constellation is a society where its stars shine on the soles of its feet.

They have fallen homeland. It rained and every drop of rain was a sword. تیغ گل

The leaves were falling and each leaf was a blade, and in each blade was a flower. ما می‌بود

The snowflake was sharp and every brick that was in our houses.

A person was going to work, the knife was so sharp that they sharpened it so much.

He who spoke and wrote in the Persian language wrote:

“Nastaliq sword of the rising water, Nastaliq sword of the sun, Nastaliq three swords of the mountain.”

Nastaliq brick blade, Nastaliq wall blade, Nastaliq blade striking.

It is not fair to say that my Persian language is not secure. این خانه

So, what is this blood that is dripping from Nastaliq? Once upon a time in this house.

One of the southern cities of Iran, one day a chick was spinning a sword. خستگی و ناراحتی

She lived a lifetime in that corner of the street, full of weariness and distress.

Inside himself, he said to himself: “You didn’t give me the right to…”

This crossroads has blades on the skin of my heart.

They have protested.