I have no desire to go around flower-garden without you 0′ new opened rose

I have nothing but a sore heart and tearful eyes.

Come like moonlight to the roof and look in the night of love

That I have nothing in my veranda but the design of your image and thought

When I don’t see your beautiful face early in the morning

0′ you travelled, it is not less tragic event than Qariban night.

If I don’t obey my dear’s order, what should I do?

This wandered heart is not under my order for a while.

Though like wine, my poetic gift is like limpid water

No body is aware of my hidden fire.

I sacrifice all my life to a flower in the spring

I’m not afraid of being leafless in the winter time

I don’t complain of shedding tears and sighing while I have you

I accompany Noah and I don’t think of storm anyhow.

I asked the eyes to make her heart soft by weeping and crying, they said

There is no way for my rain to penetrate to the stony heart.

Love is the beautiful lyric of youthful time 0′ ADIB!

There is no word better than this in your poem book through out

Qariban night: The night after tragic event in which Imam Hussein, the third Imam of

Shia’s, with his seventy two companions were martyred.

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