Farzaneh’s Song

Gold cherry
Poem of the week

By Turlough

Thu, 06 Aug 2026
  • 656 reads
19 comments
 

 

Farzaneh’s Song

 

Blown all the miles across Dasht-e Kavir

She met me with a smile

As fire flashed in almond eyes

Her laughter a welcome to paradise

Where in the fragrant garden

Of humanity’s cradle

I learned of poets Hafez and Saadi

Their verse enchanting my mind still

 

A glass ceiling in a hall of mirrors

Reflecting jewelled gowns and crowns

Of ancient princes, Persian shahs

She broke it leaving school one day

To cross the lines to foreign lands

Marching alone to a woman’s realm

She filled her mother’s heart with pride

And a sagacious father’s head with fear

 

Today the mirror’s cracked again

Revealing clouds as dark as hell

Where sun once kissed the peacocks’ roost

And the pastel scent of damask rose

Hung to the tails of a thousand winds

In a world that’s torn by greed and war

A new Div-e Sepid from a mortal’s born

Turning water daily into blood

Hiding Zion’s butcher in his robes

The angel of death walks by his side

 

Her grandmother’s songs

On that rooftop terrace in Yazd, she sang

A muezzin for all of womankind

Her silhouette mingled midst minarets

As the day retired with a crimson sky

Like the sudden chill of the desert night

Those words in Farsi froze my bones

While their memory chills me more I ask

Will those songs now lie in silent sleep

Eternally lost beneath the rubble’s sorrow

Or be sung on a roof by a child of her own?

 

Last night her spirit came to my room

With eyes of ash and the laughter gone

Did her heart beat? How could I know

With ears deafened by the blasts of bombs

And the wail of tears through crumbling walls?

 

In a mud-brick house on a dusty road

Somewhere near to Isfahan

There’s a murmur of life

An imagined smile

That will stay with me while I’m alive

But until I hear that pulse again

‘Til I’m rapt once more by Farzaneh’s song

In myriad pieces my own heart’s broken

 

 

Image:

My own photograph of the sixteenth century Chehel Sotoun Palace, a UNESCO World Heritage Site in the city of Isfahan in Iran, and renowned for the typical old Persian design of its gardens. I hope the missiles missed it.

Certificate 12
Poem
Poetry in Commotion
Inspiration Point (work that responds to our weekly writing cue)

Comments

Submitted by insertponceyfre... on

I hope so too Turlough, and I hope one day she'll be able to read this wonderful piece.

 

Submitted by Turlough on

It saddens me to say that hope is all we have.

Thank you for the cherries.

Turlough

Submitted by GlosKat on

Hi Turlough I hope your Iranian friend is alive and well and one day you will meet up again. 

I loved your poem, it reminded me of Omar Khayyam. 

 

Submitted by Turlough on

Thank you Kat. That’s my hope too.

It’s incredible how many wonderful poets Persia / Iran has produced. Many countries (Bulgaria included) have fabulous literature, art and music that are unknown beyond their borders. It’s always worth having a delve.

Turlough

Submitted by GlosKat on

I'm rather ashamed to say that the only Persian poet I know is Khayyam.  In the Burton translation.  I love his down to earth dry humour combined with an appreciation of beauty.  And his scepticism about any kind of religion or life beyond this one. Which other ones can you suggest?

 

Submitted by Turlough on

I’d heard of your man Omar Khayyam but I knew very little about him so I’ve been off having a read the last hour or so and I’ll go back to him later. His verse is exceptionally good and he’s not the bloke who said "I liked the shaver so much, I bought the company".

Hafez is the big name in the poetry world for Iranians. Despite having lived in the fourteenth century he’s still worshipped like a rock star. Saadi was another great but not as well loved because he moved abroad at the height of his fame.

I once described in my ABC account of the trip to Iran, my visit to the grave of Hafez in the city of Shiraz. I’ve just re-read it and realised that I used a different name for our guide to hide her identity. Perhaps I should have called today’s poem something else. Oh god, I hope she’s alright. If she’s alive her career as a tour guide is finished. She lived for that job and to no longer be able to do it will destroy her.

Here’s a link to that piece should you fancy a read…

Only Here for The Poets by me

In terms of more modern poetry, on the last day of our trip Farzaneh wrote the whole of a poem called Another Birth written by a Persian feminist poet by the name of Forugh Farrokhzad who had died in a car accident in 1967 at the age of 32. She was Farzaneh’s favourite, and I could see why.

Another Birth by Forugh Farrokhzad

I’m delighted that you’re interested in such delights.

Turlough

Submitted by GlosKat on

Thanks Turlough I will look at the 2 links and the boys Hafez and Saadi tomorrow.  It's always difficult reading anything in translation because you know you're not reading what the author actually wrote. I love the Fitzgerald ( not Burton  - I was thinking about the explorer!) translation but there are more modern ones,  which might for all I know be more accurate,  but I don't like them so much. 

I do find it interesting how lines from Khayyam are used derivatively today. Such as  'wine,  women and song' (although the loaf of bread gets left out).

 

Submitted by Turlough on

My Bulgarian friend pesters me to learn the language faster so that I can get greater enjoyment from Hristo Botev’s poetry. I’m in a worse situation with Irish language poetry as I only know about twenty words and it’s unlikely that they’ll all appear together in the same poem. Farsi, Bulgarian and Irish are all said to be very poetic languages. So we must become multi-lingual or trust the translator.  

I had no idea about 'the writing on the wall' etc. That’s very interesting. I must read more of his work.

Turlough

Submitted by GlosKat on

Yeah sorry about the writing on the wall bit. I've just checked and apparently that's the bible. But there is a stanza in Khayyam that starts 'The moving hand moves on and having writ ..' and expresses the same sentiment.  (I guess it's ok to quote medieval poetry)

 

 

Submitted by Turlough on

I think it's alright to quote medieval poetry provided that the medieval poet is dead, but don't quote me on that. 

I've read the Bible but I don't remember the writing on the wall. I read it fifty-odd years ago so maybe there are some new bits that I didn't know about. I'm surprised they haven't brought out another testament yet. Star Wars and Batman do it all the time.

Turlough

Submitted by GlosKat on

I'm pretty certain about the wine, women and song (and loaf) being from Khayyam  (stanza 12). It was certainly his very endearing philosophy of life. 

 

Submitted by Ewan on

  Fine sentiments, well expressed and therefore eminently deserving of today's golden cherries. Do please share it on your social media, fellow ABCTalers

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by Turlough on

Thank you very much Ewan. You've made my day.

Turlough

Submitted by celticman on

ah, I guess your song is anti-trump propaganda? you'll never be able to visit disneyland or visit the home of despots. 

 

Submitted by Turlough on

I've already been, several times, and I didn't like it at all. So no loss there.

Disneyland was probably the most sane bit. Neither Mickey nor Minnie were armed. 

Turlough

Submitted by Di_Hard on

Congratulations! This is Poem of the Week!

 

Submitted by Turlough on

Oh, thank you Di. I'm delighted to hear that. Thank you very very much.

Turlough

Submitted by marandina on

Such a distant, faraway sensation, like reading something from a thousand miles away. I can touch and feel the desert and wander amongst the lines as though at a busy bazaar. So evocative. Just beautiful in its creation and inner sadness. 

 

Submitted by Turlough on

Thank you Paul. It was a hard one to write as the inner sadness is there for me every day, with or without the poem. I've never lost a friend this way before.

Turlough