Beautiful words that evoke feelings of longing, passion, euphoria, and love. Brighten your day with these Persian poems.
I’ve always liked listening to someone recite poetry. There is something about hearing out loud the words that are meant to be spoken. But on days when I need poetry in my life, I read out loud to myself, hoping the stanzas, full of melancholy or passion or despair, will fill my heart. But sometimes I get stuck with the same poets, the same stories, and wonder if I should search for something new to refresh my soul.
One day I came across a book of Persian love poems and opened at a random page to check it out. I could not put it down. There was a passion within these short pieces that reached out and took hold of me. I keep the book close at all times in case I need a small dose of comforting words in my life.
Although my heart is full of the sorrow of separation,
Joy mixed with your sorrow increases my unhappiness.
Every night I think of you and say, oh Lord:
Here is separation and there is connection.
At last I was recaptured by his love
Resisting had no effect
Love is like an ocean without a shore
How can one swim there, oh wise one?
Love must be taken right to the end
Many unsuitable things must be accepted
Ugliness must be seen as if it were good
Poison must be taken as if it were sugar
I was disobedient and did not understand:
Baba Tahir Uryan
Because of what I see and feel, I scream —
What the eye sees, the heart remembers.
I will forge a dagger with a tip of steel and
Destroy my sight to set free my heart.
Each night, with sorrow for you, a new hardship I see
In my sight, instead of sleep, tears I see
When, like your narcissus, I go to sleep,
Today, separated from my love, I am
Without companion, sweetheart and friend, I am
The one who did not sleep on the darkness of night, I am
In short, entangled in every sorrow, I am.
I had vowed never to give my heart to anyone again.
But what should I do? Once more I am caught in a passion.
My sigh at dawn will stop the morning breeze.
Jahan Malik Khatun
The lover left, not noticing my sad heart
And shunned my worldly burning sigh
My tears covered the earth, from one end to another
The unfaithful lover did not even pass my way
My sigh left me and reached seventh heaven
And had no effect whatsoever on his hard heart.
Though I am old, hold me tight in your arms at night
Come, I am lovesick and desolate without you
Come and see how sick I am in this sorrow without you
At night I lament you absence, oh fairy-faced,
And when the morning comes, it is as if I am on fire without you.
Love came, and away went patience and fortitude,
As did endurance and tranquility, comfort and sleep.
This flame of love set my heart on fire
Why do you ask me the color of his eyes?
When did the color of his eyes ever capture me?
The fire that sparked from his eyes
Was what ensnared this mad heart.
No, she has not yet died, because I am still alive
She is alive in my sorrow, my poem and my fantasy
Whatever poetic heritage I have is hers
Can the center of love and beauty be ever silenced
And that sweet woman die – she, who bore Shahriyar?
Without you at a night of full moon, once again I walked through that lane
I was all eyes, bedazzled I searched for you.
The joy of seeing you overflowed the jug of my existence
I became the same mad lover I was before.
Like a flower I shall embrace your love
And then switch off the light of reason.
I shall place my head between your breasts,
Everyone’s heart is broken one way or another
Whether by strangers or by friends
There is no objection if it is broken by a stranger,
I am a woman
Who has not buried love alive in her body
The desert that screams: Rain on me.
My heart is heavy
I am a woman
Banished from the abode of the gods.
Let the green-tongued ones of unknown love
Reproach Raba’a and Forugh.
Love the raw passion of love
Women who, with their pains, cannot be confined
Women who do not hide
Their feelings in the corners of their scarves or behind their veils
Some of these poets, like Hafiz and Sa’di, whose tombs are still visited by the young and the old alike, are well known for those who love the written word. But I wonder, how is it that the names of the women who write these contemporary poems are not as widespread?
We hear the name of the country of Iran being thrown around on a daily basis on television and most media. But what if we switched our focus and, instead of distancing ourselves from this country and its conflicts, found a new perspective through its gorgeous artistry?
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