Fresh Flowers 156 – Avaz Afshari
Shajarian’s Flowers (83)
Singer: Mohammadreza Shajarian
Violin: Rahmatollah Badiei
Tar: Houshang Zarif
Santur: Faramarz Payvar
Tombak: Mohammad Esmaeili
Speaker: Sarvar Pakneshan
Ghazal Avaz: Hafez
Poem of the Song: Malek ol-Shoara Bahar
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 Khaneh Shajarian website to you, dear companions.
We have created a separate project on the site called Radio Performances for you, great people. The difference between that project and the Shajarian’s Flowers collection is in the refinement of the works that we present in the Shajarian’s Flowers project. Of course, we have tried to put the best available quality of works in Radio Performances as well.
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Online broadcast of Fresh Flowers 156:
The soul without the beauty of the beloved has no desire for the world
Whoever does not have this, truly does not have that
I have not seen any sign of that heart-ravishing one with anyone
Either I am unaware, or she has no sign
Every dewdrop in this path is a hundred fiery seas
Alas, this enigma has no explanation
The destination of leisure cannot be given up
O camel driver, lower the rein, for this path has no end
The bent-backed harp calls you to joy
Listen, for the advice of elders has no harm for you
The story of Qarun’s treasure, which the days gave to the wind
Read in the ear of the rose until it has no hidden gold
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The autumn wind blew, the face of the flower was hidden
The vanguard of the autumn army became apparent from both sides
Like the February cloud, a spring of blood flowed from my eye
The nightingale made lamentations in sorrow for the nest
See the burnt nest, it set the world ablaze
My God, it set the world ablaze
God, God, alas, alas, from the hand of the master, alas
Who has veiled the face of the moon-like beauty
Alas and cry, woe from the tyranny of the hunter, woe, alas
Who has given the fatwa for our destruction
You have no regard for the heartbroken
And you have no news of your captive
Oh, what can I do from the sorrow of restlessness
The eye is tired of wakefulness
Come, my moon, let us go from this whirlpool of sacrifice
