Golhaye Shajarian – Golhaye Tazeh 182, Neyshabour Night – Abu Atta’s Singing
Golhaye Shajarian (92)
Singer: Mohammad Reza Shajarian
Composer: Faramarz Payvar
Speaker: Azar Research
Poet: Khayyam
We decided to collaborate with the Shajarian House Weighting Site to present all of Mohammad Reza Shajarian’s radio programs under the title “Shajarian Flowers” with a specific schedule for you, dear friends.
We have included a separate project on the site called “Radio Performances” for you, the elders. The difference between that project and the Shajarian Flowers collection is the refinement of the works that we present in the Shajarian Flowers project. Of course, we tried to put the best quality of the works in the radio performances.
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The morning prayer has come from our tavern
Kai Rand, our crazy ruins
Get up so we can fill the cup from the table
Before they fill our cup
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It is dawn time, get up and, O sweet essence
Softly, softly, wind-sucking and harp-playing
Those who have passed away will not last long
And those who have passed away, no one will come back
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Arise and do not eat the sorrow of the passing world
Be happy and breathe in happiness
In the nature of the world, if you had been faithful
Your turn would not have come from others
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It is a cup that the creator of reason would pour
A hundred kisses of love on the forehead
This potter would always make such a delicate cup
And throw it back on the ground
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So that we do not break our unity
We do not step on the head of joy
Let us rise and breathe before the breath of morning
This morning is enough It blew so that we would not blow
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This caravan of life passes by in a strange way
See the breath that passes with joy
What do you drink, the cup of sorrow for tomorrow’s opponents
Bring the cup before me as the night passes
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I wish you were a place to rest
Or that you had reached this distant path
Or that after a hundred thousand years from the heart of the earth
You were a green hope for blowing
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I have only a little bit of strength left in me to try to be a bartender
There is nothing left of the talk of the people, disloyalty
There is nothing left of the wind of the shower
I don’t know what is left of life