Fresh Flowers 128 – Avaz in Bayat Esfahan
Shajarian’s Flowers (73)
Singers: Mohammadreza Shajarian and Ahdieh
Santur: Faramarz Payvar
Violin: Homayoun Khorram and Rahmatollah Badiei
Tombak: Mohammad Esmaeili
Speaker: Reza Moeini
Poetry of Avaz and Tasnif: Abu-Sa’id Abu al-Khair
We decided to present all of Mohammadreza Shajarian’s radio programs under the title “Shajarian’s Flowers” with a specific schedule in cooperation with the esteemed Khane Shajarian website.
We have created a separate project on the site called Radio Performances for you. The difference between that project and the Shajarian’s Flowers collection is in refining the works that we present in the Shajarian’s Flowers project. Of course, we have tried to provide the best available quality of works in Radio Performances as well.
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Online پخش گلهای تازه ۱۲۸ :
Received from Telegram Channel
I was looking for rosewater last night in the direction of the meadow
I saw a withered flower among the flowers, burning like me
I said, “What have you done that you burn like a moth?”
It said, “I smiled for a moment in this meadow, so woe to me”
Oh, a cry from love, oh, a cry
My work has fallen to a unique beauty
If my broken heart is given justice
Otherwise, me and love, come what may
Oh, a cry from love, oh, a cry
My body has become all tears and my eyes wept
In your love, one must live without a body
No trace of me remains, what is this love?
Since I have become all beloved, who is the lover?
Oh, a cry from love, oh, a cry
My work has fallen to a unique beauty
If my broken heart is given justice
Otherwise, me and love, come what may
Oh, a cry from love, oh, a cry
My body has become all tears and my eyes wept
In your love, one must live without a body
No trace of me remains, what is this love?
Since I have become all beloved, who is the lover?
Oh, a cry from love, oh, a cry
My work has fallen to a unique beauty
If my broken heart is given justice
Otherwise, me and love, come what may
************
Your love is the bane of my dervish heart
It does not become a stranger unless it is my own
I said, “Let’s take a trip to escape sorrow”
But your sorrow is always before me
Instead of sleep, I have water in my eyes
Because I am in a hurry to see you
They say, “Sleep so you can see him in your dream”
Oh, you ignorant ones, what place is there for sleep for me?
In your sorrow, the heart does not sing a song
Before you, lamentation and wailing are of no use
Let us lament with a lament that you do not become aware of
Let us burn with a fire that produces no smoke
The heart never wanders except in the path of love
The soul never speaks except of the words of love
Your love has made the desert of my heart a salt wasteland
So that no other affection may ever grow
