From now on I am Halabja! From now on, I am a tear-seed of that vast sorrow's pomegranate. From now on I am the load of apples which won't be caravanned there.* From now on I am a strand of hair in the beard of Mewlewi's song. From now on he is the shemi shewan*— the evening candle of my country, and I am the infatuated Weli.
Tell me what shall I do so that the camphoric cries of Zellm Lake do not die down? Tell me what shall I do so that this obstinate colt of my tears does not get tamed? Just tell me, what shall I do? What should I not do? So that in this pretty moon's wake God comes down, at least for a short while, to sit amongst us? Tell me what shall I do? tell me what... tell me ... tell.
— How sudden the bushes of scream in this field flower and grow into green almonds. How sudden the fallen songs in this field germinate and turn into tulips.
* Notes "the load of apples/which won't be caravanned there": Refers to a line in a folk song which says: "The apples have been loaded to go to Halabja." "shemi shewan": Refers to his beloved whose name was Shamsa (he called her Sham for short). In this other sense the phrase means 'Shamasa of the nights.'
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