Water of Life – Private performance in Nava
Celebrating the birthdays of Mohammad Reza Shajarian and Farzaneh Shajarian – October 4, 1984
Vocals: Mohammad Reza Shajarian
Setar: Parviz Meshkatian
Tombak: Jamshid Mohebbi
With speeches by Bahman Boostan at the end of the performance
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Do not think, O friend, that I have any companion other than you
Or that I have any task day and night other than thinking of you
Not only I have fallen into the snare of your hair’s curl
But in every ring of your hair, there is someone captivated
If I say that I have no business with you
The walls and doors will testify that there is a business
Whoever criticizes me for love and blames me
Has not seen you, so he has a denial towards me
Not only I am naively desiring your love
But like me, there are many burned ones in your army
What can I do if I do not endure the oppression of your rival
Everyone knows that in the company of a rose, there is a thorn
What can I scatter at your feet that would be pleasing to you
One cannot say head and soul, for there is a measure
**************
Who knows how long the night of separation lasts until dawn?
Except someone who is imprisoned in the prison of love
I decided to take the path of the garden out of the sorrow of my heart
Which cypress resembles the height of a friend?
Who will deliver my message to the unfaithful beloved
That you broke off, and we are still connected
The thought of your face has planted the root of hope
The calamity of your love has uprooted the foundation of patience
**************
The soil of my friend’s street is my water of life
If there is joy in both worlds, it is us and the sorrow of seeing the friend
There is no clamor in the city except for the twist of the beloved’s hair
There is no turmoil in the horizons except for the arch of the beloved’s eyebrow
What is the medicine for the yearning? Poison from the hand of the beloved
What is the balm for the lovers? A wound from the arm of the beloved
If the night of separation brings my death
On the day of resurrection, I will pitch my tent next to my friend
Each of my ghazals is a letter, a picture of a state in it
What is the use of writing a letter when it does not reach the friend?
