Several unreleased shots from the long scene fifty-seven – a poem by Farāmarz Sehdehī.

In the month of Esfand, the blossoms of yellow apples and plums The taverns of Farvardin, the gardens of Mansouriye And every year that there was no locust There was hunger Thirst, another name for freedom Justice I was drunk, who would take you home Uncle Abbas, sitting by the river To my health Thinking […]...

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