"Passionately"

 The tear is a mystery
 the smile is a mystery
 the love is a mystery
 My tears that night, were the smile of my love.

 I am not a story to read
 nor a song to sing
 nor a voice to hear
 nor something to see
 I am the common pain, cry out for me.

 The tree is talking to woods
 the grass to the field
 the star to galaxy
 the wave to sea
 and
 I am talking to you.
 Tell me your name
 give me your heart
 tell me your thoughts
 give me your hands
 because
 I have understood your roots
 I have spoken with your lips to other ones
 and your hands are familar with mine.

 I have cried for the living in the bright silence
 and I have sung the most beautifull songs
 in the dark grave yard
 because the dead of this year were
 the most passionate living

 Give me your hands
 your hands are familiar to me
 whom I found too late
 I am talking to you
 like the tree to woods
 like the bird to spring
 like the field to rain
 like the wave to sea
 because your voice
 is familiar to me.

 "Ahmad Shamloo" ( A. Bamdad)
 Poorly translated by
 "Syavash Shaghayegh"

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