Soleymaniyeh Concert in Iraq, held in the newly established Art Hall of Soleymaniyeh City.
Vocals: Mohammad Reza Shajarian
Tar: Majid Derakhshani
Kamancheh: Saeed Farajpouri
Oud: Hossein Behroozinia
Tombak and Vocals: Homayoun Shajarian
Daf: Hossein Rezaei Nia
Produced and broadcast on the Kurdistan network.
In the modes of Mahour and Shour.
480p : Direct download: Part 1 – Part 2 – Behind the scenes
480p : Download from Uploadboy: Part 1 – Part 2 – Behind the scenes
Online broadcast of the Soleymaniyeh Concert in Iraq:
Why does my cypress not incline towards the garden?
It does not associate with the rose, nor remember the jasmine.
My heart, hoping for union with you, does not become a companion to my soul.
My soul, longing for your lane, does not serve my body.
With all the kindness of your skirt, I am amazed by the breeze,
That it does not turn the dust of your path into the musk of Khotan.
Since my vagabond heart went to the folds of her hair,
From that long journey, it does not intend to return home.
If my silver- ساقِ cupbearer gives only dregs,
Who is there to not turn their body, like a cup of wine, all into a mouth?
************
Which is the physician of incurable pain?
Which is the companion of the endless road?
If it is intellect, then what is madness?
And if it is the soul, then who is the beloved?
The boundless sea is full of pearls,
Which is the human gem within it?
No part of the world is without its own ailment,
Where is the shop of the physician of love?
Intellect has become incapable in the thought of the incapable,
Who is the rebellious one, who is the wanderer?
What direction have you made of this conversation?
Seek the lesson of the silent ones, which is it?
************
There is a pain in this heart that cannot be revealed,
There is a secret in this chest that cannot be found!
Until your beauty gives our eyes light,
In the garden of your beauty, one cannot behold.
Until we close our eyes to the face of all strangers,
One cannot contemplate that beautiful face.
The world is all a tavern of the wine of love,
The intoxication of wine and love cannot be combined.
Since no one knows of the lover’s heart,
One cannot fathom the thoughts of the mad lover’s heart.
************
The tale of your love, before it comes to my lips,
The color of my face tells of my hidden state.
Sometimes I say that I should lament my disheveled state,
Then I say that it is obvious, what need is there for expression?
If it is so that you see my poor, beggar-like face
At someone else’s door, banish me from your own.
I am thinking of sacrificing my soul for you,
Not thinking of freeing myself from your snare.
If you are a sweet time, then cast a glance at me as well,
For I am the Farhad of this time, driven mad by your love.
I have neither the strength for separation, nor you the inclination for closeness,
I have resigned my heart to patience, for I know no other way.
Tears are flowing from my eyes in memory of your ruby lips,
Look at me once more, for I am shedding many pearls.
I said that day when I took your path,
That I will not reach the beloved until my life is at stake.
************
Why did I give my heart to you, that you break my heart?
Or what did I do that you do not look back at me?
My heart and soul are occupied with you, and my gaze is to the left and right,
So that rivals do not say that you are my intended.
Others, when they leave sight, leave the heart,
You have gone so into my heart that you are like the soul in the body.
You are a homa, and I am a tired, poor beggar,
I would reign if you cast your shadow upon me.
************
Life has no pleasure without a friend,
Smoke has risen to my head from this hidden fire.
Oh, at the door of your house is the clamor of lovers,
Like a caravan in turmoil over sweet water.
You are carefree, and your love seems like a game,
You will not know our anxiety until your harvest burns.
The city is yours, and the kingdom, command whatever you will,
Whether you bestow without action or banish without guilt.
************
I have had enough of taking to the air, for no feathers and wings remain.
Where can I go from your hand, that you give no opportunity?
I have neither a path to escape, nor a way to acquaintance.
What can one do for someone who has fallen into sorrow?
How pleasant it is to be patient in separation all one’s life,
In the hope that one day union will fall into one’s hands.
It is of no use to you to speak of the sorrow of the times,
That you have not spent a night awake for the length of a year.
It is not surprising if you have no sorrow for the state of the afflicted,
That such a state has not passed over you all your life.
Speak a word to me, for I am so captive of love,
That I have no occupation with myself from your existence.
All my life passed in separation from you, and it is easy,
If there is a possibility of union in the afterlife.
