آرزوی روی تو

پیر می فروش

شراب

نازنین مریم

آتش دل

میمون مست

افتاده بر لاک خویش

اختلاف طبقاتی

مرا به خانه ام ببر

تریاک

دیر هنگام به مقصد بیرمنگام

جادو فیت نرگس

انقلاب

خشمگینم

خیابان من

ترامادول در یک صبح بارانی یا عشق سردتر از مرگ است

تلاشی مذبوحانه و بی زرق و برق برای پادینا که نمیشناسمش

بازگشت فیت آرش

Here is the English translation of the poem:

There is no song of departure in the alley,
The lantern of friendship is not lit,
Don’t fear the attack of my presence,
I carry nothing but solitude with me.

When you're not here, I doubt myself,
I doubt every flower, every shade of light,
I doubt the tear of a dove, I doubt the dream of ashes,
Without you, I doubt nightmares and dreams alike.
I even doubt the flame, the butterfly.

Tonight, once again, there is no lantern lit,
There is no lamentation for the sorrow of this night.
I am not afraid of the walls, the dead ends, the shadows,
I am dark, dark, I am afraid of myself.
I am afraid of the shadows of the night without companionship,
I am afraid of being untrue.

There is no song of departure in the alley,
The lantern of friendship is not lit,
Don’t fear the attack of my presence,
I carry nothing but solitude with me.



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ارتش سری

Beneath the streets of Shiraz, there’s a bloke called Sasan. He crafts sounds for himself and his mates, both real and virtual. He’d be well chuffed if you gave his work a listen, here and there.

SASAN

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