Loving Devotion 

Loving Devotion 
(May his soul rest in peace)
His Eminence Ayatollah Al-Uzma Mohammad Reza Nekounam

Author: Nekounam, Mohammad Reza, 1327-
Title: Love
Publication Details: Islamshahr: Sobhe Farda Publications, 2014.
Physical Description: 99 pages.
ISBN: 978-964-2807-50-5
Library of Congress Classification: 4 Q 8 N / 6 / 66BP
Dewey Decimal Classification: 12/297
National Bibliography Number: 1026466
Publisher: Sobhe Farda
Edition: First Edition, 2014
Print Run: 3000 copies
Price: 200,000 Rial
Distributor: Qom, Amin Boulevard, 24th Alley, Left Branch, No. 76
Distributor Phone: +98 025 32 90 15 78
Copyright: Reserved for the author.

Preface

The madness of love takes me to solitude, so that I may be alone with your memory. Since the day they took you, they said, “Next week, news will come.” Those days, I wondered how I would endure a week in the limbo of not knowing anything about you.

That one week turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and months into years, and a pain that has ravaged my soul in an endless, relentless wait.

I was so madly in love with you that I would stare at the television screen, hoping to catch a glimpse of you in some report. I would rush home, praying to find you among the sea of faces shown. But my eyes, tired and hopeless, would shed tears.

The bitter days passed. I would anxiously gaze at the photographs on the walls, even those in the newspapers. I would breathe short, shaky breaths as I looked at the missing persons, hoping to never find your photo among the dead. The sorrow was heavy, but I would sigh in relief when I didn’t see your face among them.

I often visited your mother’s home. She too waited at the door and with her weary eyes, silently conveyed that there was no news.

The hope of once again feeling your embrace gave my soul comfort. When you appeared in my mind, it felt as if I were walking in paradise with you…

Seven months passed, and still no word of you. Then our child was born. Now he has his own life, but it is without you, and in search of you. He waited for you, staring at a photograph of you, talking to it, but receiving no answer, nor finding any trace of you. The only movement was his head shaking in longing.

You know very well that I fear nothing, and that everything is the same to me. All these years of silence, your love gave me life. I still do not understand why they took you, and I do not know why they took your life…

Nazgol

I am taken down many stairs. My eyes are blindfolded. A door opens, and I am led inside. The door closes with the sound of a lock. They tell me to take off my blindfold. It is taken from a small window. The cell is small, several meters underground. It is damp. There is an old, rough blanket there. I am cold. I hold it tightly and softly moan. I call for my mother!

… A few hours later, they call my name: “Nazgol.” They give me another blindfold. With my eyes closed, I walk to a room. I am placed on a chair…

Since I arrived this morning, no one has spoken to me or told me why I am here. My eyes were blindfolded in front of our house. In the back seat of the car, I was told to sleep. They brought me to a place I don’t know…

This morning, while I was still in bed, several people burst into our house with a paper that only had a signature on it. They wanted me. They were looking for Nazgol. I asked, “Why?” They only said, “You’ll understand later.”

My mother was terribly anxious. Tears were flowing down her face, and she cursed and lamented that they had taken me. I was the youngest, my mother’s baby. My father was a businessman. We were not financially poor. We were content with our life, but this peaceful life was now shattered.

Someone came. He said, “You’ll be our guest for a few days. We just want to have a chat.” I asked, “What have I done to be here? Where is this place?” He laughed and said, “It’s nothing. Don’t fret. We just have a few questions, and if you answer them, everything will be fine.” He said, “I am not your interrogator,” and left.

They lifted me from the chair, and we walked down a hallway until we reached a door. They knocked, then told me to go inside and sit down. They removed the blindfold.

The Beloved of Love

The sunlight shines through a small window, casting half the room in light. I sit on a chair. A young man enters and sits at the desk opposite me.

He greets me and hands me a paper. “Write down everything I ask,” he says.

In the hope of understanding why I am here and that this ordeal will end soon, I answer the questions quickly and in a rush. Yet the interrogator neither hurries nor finishes asking questions. The questioning continues:

• “What is your job?”
• “I don’t have any particular job; it’s summer, and I am on break at home.”
• “Tell me about your high school and friends.”
• “My friends are Fatima, Fariba, Afsaneh, and Sara.”
• “Goli Khanom! Did Afsaneh also come to your house?”

My dear Nazgol! Afsaneh used to come to our house a lot, especially on Fridays. We were close friends…

I lose myself in memories. What wonderful days I spent with Afsaneh. I would sweep the yard and spread a rug on the large wooden bed we had. Every Friday evening, my father and I would water the plants. My father would sit on that same wooden bed, open the Divan of Hafez, and recite poems:

“O Lord, whose house is this bright candle’s glow?
My soul is consumed—ask, whose soul is this?”

…

The Tale of Truth

He looks at me. He is a strong, assertive young man…

• “Tell me about Afsaneh.”
• Afsaneh was a lively girl, full of energy. When she entered the classroom, she was always loud. She always had many girls with her. I was sitting on a bench when Afsaneh came to sit next to me and elbowed me firmly. She asked, “Nazgol, are you asleep or awake?” Those memories flood back. I said, “Oh Afsaneh!” It really hurt.

I replied, “We were just regular friends, that’s all.”

The interrogator asks, “Goli Khanom, tell me about her family.”

Her father was an engineer. Her mother was highly educated. Afsaneh and her parents were very into books. They were well-off and wealthy. One of her brothers lived abroad. Every summer, they would visit him. Whenever I wanted a book, Afsaneh would bring it to me as a gift. We were very close. She introduced me to literature. My father only had the Quran and the Divan of Hafez. He had memorized the poems of Baba Taher. Our life was simple and good, but Afsaneh had a luxurious life, and everything was provided for her.

If Jalaal Al-Ahmad said, “Some people become Westernized,” I would say, “You have become comforted by wealth. Too much wealth has made you indifferent.”

She would say, “Too much comfort builds walls between people. Everything in excess is harmful. Pleasure is found in simplicity and balance.”

The Interrogation Continues

(Translation continues based on further provided details.)

I said: Most of the books were poetry.

• What did he talk to you about?

He was very sad. He would ask me why I didn’t write poetry myself. Then, he would answer his own question: “Because you haven’t fallen in love yet! Once you fall in love, everything you do will turn into poetry and playing with words! When you fall in love and become a poet, you’ll recite poems for the poor people!”

Now I, too, am saddened by his grief. They even showed me his grave, right next to Muhammad’s.

It was through his deep influence that I composed this poem:

Praise of God

Rhythmic structure: Fa‘ilātun Fa‘ilātun Fa‘ilātun Fa‘ilun
Meter: Raml Muẖbūn Mahzūf
(U – – / U U – – / U U – – / U U –)

The heart, consumed by longing, sings without shame,
The beloved’s sight turns into descriptions of the fairest.
Poetry is the stirrings of the heart, not the ashes of the mind,
A poet’s praise is for God, not for the court.

Poetry is the sea of speech, boundless and endless,
It is the fire of love, testing the mettle of the verse.
The chains of force, wealth, and deceit only see themselves,
Who can deceive and become a trickster?

The self and illusion cannot change; it remains as it is,
Its actions deviate, and it will not straighten this time.
He who knows from the beginning is one with the unseen,
He has no fear, as the truth is revealed to all.

One who sees everything as arising from a single source,
Desires nothing from themselves, neither fasting nor feasting.
To this heart, no difference matters,
Whether sitting by the door or upon the wall.

It was night again, and darkness was beginning to fold into the depths of our conversations and questions. The young man got up and left. Once again, they blindfolded me and took me back to the same cell. I was left wondering why they are chasing after myths. I lay down, reached for my blanket, and pulled it over myself. Voices came from outside; they were the voices of people who had freedom. I still didn’t know where I was or why I had been brought here. My charges had not yet been clarified. I didn’t know what they wanted from me. I called out my mother’s name and thought about my father… I had never been so estranged from them. My heart ached for them even more… For me, it didn’t matter where I was. I was resigned to everything, and the ups and downs of life seemed the same to me.

It was morning again. After some time, my breakfast was handed to me through the same small window: some bread, a little cheese, and half a glass of tea with two sugar cubes… While eating breakfast, I thought about why I always had a blindfold on, yet that young man spoke to me without one.

Since that young man mentioned the “myth,” a sense of unease has gripped me.

It was morning again, and the same questions began again.

The young man said, “Tell me more about your friendship with Afsaaneh. We’ve heard that no one was as close to Afsaaneh as you.”

I replied: “I’ve said the same thing. We were friends and classmates. My friendship with Afsaaneh was nothing extraordinary. Many girls are close friends.”

• “But your friendship with Afsaaneh is strange. There must be something between you that made you become friends?”
• “Like what?”
• “In Afsaaneh’s library, there were books from the Mujahideen. A militant group.”
• “Afsaaneh read all sorts of books and was knowledgeable about many things, but she didn’t believe in everything. She was bold, and she hated oppression. She despised the arrogant ones who thought too highly of themselves! She also hated ignorance and stupidity. She couldn’t tell right from wrong without study, but she never owned a weapon.”
• “But she had the Mujahideen’s path!”
• “I don’t know what that means.”
• “Do you know where Afsaaneh is?”
• “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from her in two months. In summer, she would go abroad with her parents to visit her brother.”
• “What do you believe in?”
• “Belief inspections are prohibited. I strictly adhere to the law of citizenship. Of course, like everyone else, I detest force, oppression, dictatorship, and tyranny. But what do these discoveries have to do with me?”
• “You were Afsaaneh’s close friend. You must know her thoughts and beliefs. When you remain friends with her, it means you are in agreement with her.”
• “Afsaaneh was blunt and harsh, but she wasn’t political, and she was never armed. I don’t understand what you’re saying or what you’re after.”
• “You will gradually understand.”

The young man handed me some interrogation forms and told me to answer the questions quickly and without thinking, and to write them down rapidly. He asked me three simultaneous questions on three different topics, then followed each with more questions. He was asking very quickly, giving me no time to think. He wanted me to sign at the bottom of all the pages. He then took them, glanced over them, and continued: “Now tell me, where did you and Afsaaneh go?”

I said: “Sometimes I went to their house, but she mostly came to mine. We would sit and prepare our lessons or read books together.”

• “Where else did you go?”
• “My family wouldn’t let me go anywhere else.”
• “Who else did Afsaaneh visit?”
• “I don’t know.”
• “Who were Afsaaneh’s friends?”

“I only know the friends she had at school. I don’t know anything else.”

• “What books did you read together?”

The young man handed me a sheet and said, “Write them down.” He went to the next room.

When he returned, his tone was sharper and somewhat angry. I didn’t know who he had spoken to. He said: “Write everything down honestly. It will be better for you.”

I remained silent. He continued: “The moon never stays behind the clouds forever. The sun shines more brightly once the clouds have passed, and the truth is revealed more clearly.”

I remained silent again.

My silence made him angrier. He shouted: “The truth will eventually become clear!” He left angrily through the same door he had come through, and once more, the blindfold obscured my sight, taking me back to that small cell. I, who had never been political, and neither had Afsaaneh, did not understand what was happening. But for me, it didn’t matter. I reassured myself, my head resting against the wall of the cell, thinking that everything is the same, and the highs and lows of life do not make a difference. This gave me patience.

It was morning again. The breakfast and blindfold, then the interrogation room.

The young man entered. He had a cup of tea in his hand. He sat across from me and said, “Have you thought it over?”

I felt exhausted, anxious, and confused. I said: “What is there to think about? I’ve done nothing wrong. Afsaaneh and I were just friends, like other girls. Why can’t you leave me alone?”

The young man replied: “Afsaaneh isn’t abroad. She is in prison. You should tell us everything to get some leniency.”

I got angry and said: “I have nothing to tell you.”

The young man then showed me a film. A girl was sitting at a desk. As the camera zoomed in on her face, I couldn’t believe it. This was Afsaaneh, now in an interrogation room. But her room wasn’t like mine, and the voice of the interrogator sounded different.

The interrogator asked Afsaaneh: “Introduce yourself. Where are you from, and where were you arrested?”

Afsaaneh spoke about herself. At first, I couldn’t understand her words.

The interrogator said: “Your accusation is connection with hostile groups.”

I was stunned. Afsaaneh, the most beautiful girl at school with her lovely face, her beautiful eyes, and her kind and generous hands, the one who always spoke of love—now she was accused?! I couldn’t believe it. You, the girl I spent time with, the one I lay on the same pillow with, and caressed your long hair while you did the same to mine… What are we doing here?

Two days later, I still hadn’t been formally informed of my charges. I mentioned this to the young man, and he cursed someone I didn’t know—perhaps one of the judges or officials.

I had been sitting on the same chair for a long time. The young man didn’t come. Someone else arrived. He said: “You are accused of actions against the government, destroying evidence, and connections with insurgents, saboteurs, and armed groups.” He gave me a piece of paper to sign. Angrily, I said: “You have no evidence. Why have you arrested me and accused me?” But he left without responding.

The young man returned again. He said: “It is better to tell us everything you know, even the smallest things about Afsaaneh.”

I was in shock. Why wouldn’t they leave me alone

The Eternal Path of Love

Love is eternal, everything else is transient.
In the blaze of your love’s fire, there is a great uproar.
Your beauty has transformed your soul into love, wit, and cleverness.
The soil of Shiraz has done this, which is why you are so uniquely enchanting.

“Desire in the world is always followed by desire,”
I desire my heart, and none else desires it.

…

When I returned home, my mother was crying a lot. Then she looked at me from head to toe and asked if I was alright. My father was now calm. I had only been away from home for fourteen days, but it felt like years. Now, I understand the value of freedom in this small space of ours. The solitary confinement had made me irritable, sensitive, and impatient. I didn’t even like the office. I flipped through it listlessly. To cheer me up, my mother suggested, “Let’s go to the market together.” I went reluctantly. My mother said, “I don’t know what they have done to my daughter. The sweet, cheerful girl I used to know has become a silent, irritable one. I hope you don’t encounter any problems in the university entrance exam…”

Love

The yellow and dry leaves were giving way to the white of winter. It was my last year of high school. We hadn’t heard from Afsaneh anymore, and months had passed since the bitter summer events. Now, Fatimah had come closer to me in place of Afsaneh. She knew I had fallen in love. She insisted, saying, “Nazgol, tell me his name. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

I said, “Farhad, Majnun, Khosrow, I don’t know!”

She repeated, “Please, Nazgol!”

Love had worn me out, and I wanted to talk to someone about it. I said to Fatimah, “While I was in prison, someone fell in love with me. He came to propose to me. I have fallen in love with him, too. Now I love him madly.”

She said, “He must be an officer, a political one. Political officers aren’t worth much. They have no understanding of love or what it means to be in love, and they don’t lead a peaceful or carefree life. You’ll end up in trouble.”

I replied, “It’s not in my control. He is different from everyone else.”

Fatimah said, “Nazgol, you can’t go down that road. Otherwise, you’ll be beaten senseless.”

I said, “I love him, understand me!”

She sighed, “Nazgol! You’re too beautiful for this! Every boy would die for you. My brother always says, ‘Nazgol is so beautiful.’“

I said, “I only love him and like him. Other boys don’t mean anything to me.”

She replied, “I don’t understand how you could fall in love with someone who’s an officer.”

I answered, “He saved me from prison. He wrote a report that made the court acquit me. He’s different.”

She responded, “Love must have direction and purpose for its stability and longevity. Writing a report doesn’t make someone in love. You were only a friend to Afsaneh. She was innocent, just had a few books and magazines at home. She read everything.”

I said, “Love is love. It doesn’t have conditions or goals.”

I took my poetry notebook and read her this poem:

(Poem)

Fatimah didn’t understand what I was saying. She just couldn’t grasp it, and whenever she could, she argued with me. We spoke a lot about love, but never came to a mutual understanding.

Slowly, the school holidays arrived. The children left, and I found myself thinking of Mohammad more and more each day. I fought with my parents continually, and to be with Mohammad, I stood against all opposition until they finally agreed to let us marry.

Mohammad was the young man who had sat across from me for the first time. He said he had never shackled anyone’s hands, nor allowed anyone’s eyes to be blindfolded in front of him. He said he had never forged any case files and would never accept fabricated orders.

My Heaven

In the morning, I reluctantly get up from the bed that clings to me. After breakfast, I go to the green space to walk. As I’m about to return, a young man approaches me. It’s the same young man who interrogated me for fourteen days. I want to hurry past, but my steps slow down, and I eventually find myself sitting in my room, taking a deep breath. I sit by the window. I remember that notebook—the one with only a few poems in it.

… From behind the window, I see my mother coming in. She’s exhausted, breathing heavily. She carries some things and places them in the corner of the yard. A worker is with her. I put the notebook down and rush to the yard to help my mother. She shows me a new bed and pillow and says, “You should start preparing your dowry.” Her words make me think. If I get married, I won’t have to deal with these confusions anymore.

A few days later, my father says, “By the way, Nazgol, a suitor has come for you.” He doesn’t say who it is. I lower my head and say nothing.

My mother says, “Who is it?”

My father answers, “They’ll come tomorrow night.”

Again, I say nothing, keeping silent about wanting to study or hoping they won’t send me out of the house.

My mother has bought sweets and fruits. We wait for them to arrive. All day, we’ve cleaned everything meticulously, even the windows. I also washed the yard, just as I had done when Afsaneh was supposed to visit. The evening bell rings, and my brother goes to open the door. I head to the kitchen to prepare fresh tea. My mother says, “When the tea is ready, pour it and bring it yourself.” As I bring the tea, I look at the guests one by one until I spot the groom. My curiosity grows, and suddenly I see the face of the man who had been asking about me for fourteen days. It was him! I almost dropped the tray from my hands…

Mohammad and I lived for only a few months in that small room where I once stayed. Mohammad only had an elderly mother and a small house. My father had told him to come live with us. In those few months, I was incredibly happy and energetic. Our happiness made me anxious. I feared losing it, losing him.

Mohammad said, “From the first day I saw you in my room, I fell in love with you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every night when I lay down, you were there, in my thoughts. I tried everything to forget you, but I couldn’t. I love you with all my heart.”

Every day, Mohammad went to work. When he came home at night, he would greet me, take my hand, kiss it, and say, “Forgive me.” I felt elated at the sight of him. Those were the best days. How quickly they ended. One day, they came and took him, just as they had once taken me. His return was delayed, and I longed for him. The nights became increasingly difficult. He was taken away, and I sat beside my window, gazing at the sky, wondering where he was and what he was doing. In the early days, I would jump at every noise, running to the yard, but he never returned…

I spent my moments thinking of him and waiting. He had become my breath.

Purity and Sincerity in Love

True and sincere love reveals itself in times of hardship and pressure. What always emerged in my heart, like a radiant sun, during the difficult moments of life was my love for Muhammad, and through it, I found peace. My heart never doubted the warm and faithful gaze of Muhammad, and he was always my choice. My heart was in love, and it could not question him. My heart carries no desire for revenge and remains forever the ruler of pure love, hope, and faith in my one true beloved. In my love for him, I have said:

Eternal Love

(Verse in Persian: Original Poem in the Text)

The spring of the heavens of love, takes its life from Adam,

A wine, a playful lover, more so than her ruin and burden,

A living heart, ever searching, in this very moment, radiant and kind,

New to decay, clear, delicate, and a secret companion.

I come to a world that does not last, but to pure love I belong,

To the Lord of love and satisfaction, to a house free of sorrow,

Contentment with acceptance, and happiness that dwells within.

Love reveals itself not in greed, but in calm and selfless submission.

No throne, no riches, nor the desires of a fleeting life remain,

There is neither a lovely woman lost in passion nor a cup to drink from,

It is through the whirlwind of love that I have become intoxicated with joy.

I have no doubts in my heart; I only have you, my beloved Muhammad.

When I spoke to him, even during difficult times, I would tell him how deeply I loved him. No one knew of my deep affection for him. Now, I cry from the pain of separation, but I accept it, because my love is Muhammad, and he has become the companion of my soul.

I would tell Muhammad, “When I am in love, even if my beloved becomes the killer of my body and soul, I could never cease to love him.” My heart, in its pure love, has no conditions. You are my love, my world, and I am yours, bound to you without hesitation. Even when I thought I would never see you again, I could not give my heart to anyone else. No one can replace you, for you have been my true love.

Every night, I would stand under the sky and speak to you, my beloved, and tell you how much I longed for you. Though you have gone, my love for you endures forever. You are the only one in my heart. In this world full of deceit and falsehood, my love for you remains the only truth.

The Power of Truth

The true essence of love lies in sincerity and loyalty. When I stood by you, every moment felt like a dance, a pure connection between two souls who had found each other against all odds. Love for you became my strength, my shield, and the reason for my existence. Through trials and struggles, my love for you only deepened, and it remains my life’s purpose.

With each passing day, I have learned that love is not fleeting, and even in the darkest moments, love remains, strong and unshakable. I do not regret my love for you, even as it causes me pain. It has taught me how to live, how to endure, and most importantly, how to love unconditionally. You have become my truth, my guiding light, and I am forever yours.

In the Watch of Love

Love has set me free. I am no longer bound by the expectations of others, for my heart belongs to you. Even if my body fades, my love remains. I have surrendered to my love, a love that endures beyond time and space. Your love is my reality, my motivation, and my courage. With you, I have learned the true meaning of love, and it is something that cannot be replaced.

Though time has passed and we are apart, the love we shared remains undiminished. I find comfort in the memories of our time together, in the knowledge that our love was real and pure. In this world of deception, love is the only truth, and through it, we shall meet again.

Final Thoughts: Love is Eternal

Years have passed, and I remain in silence, but my love for you continues to burn bright. You are my soul’s companion, and I wait for the day when we will be reunited. My love for you has not diminished, and it never will. You were the one who showed me the power of love, the one who taught me that true love transcends time and space. You will always be my love, and I will forever be yours.

The Poem of Love

My Joseph, the story of my love, my very essence, the fabric of my being—everything about me, my existence and non-existence—how is it that they speak of you in such a manner! After years of waiting and wandering, I have found your tomb, and your news has reached me! I had learned from you to live in harmony with the Holy Quran, and to fill my loneliness with the conversation of God. I had another conclusion, a conclusion that ended in my ignorance, and news about you came to me!

The burning sorrow of separation and the great torment of exile were countered by the joy of your sight. An impassioned lover never doubts a single moment; his heart is always clear. But now, I find myself in doubt: Where am I, and where are you?

I never knew a love deeper than mine. I loved you immensely. I wanted you with all my heart. You had become my very breath, and the whole of my being. From mountain to mountain, from field to field, I was your mad lover, and with every flower I smelled, I hoped to catch a trace of your fragrance. In my pursuit of you, I became frantic. Your absence left me bewildered. In these years, my hair has turned grey and my back has become bent.

Many times, I knelt, prostrated, and called out to God in the depths of my broken heart, asking for you to be returned to me, again and again…

I vowed, sent salutations, recited prayers, hoping that news of you would reach me… but it never came! I would say to myself, perhaps my heart and ears are unworthy of hearing anything from you! After all, where am I, and where are you?

Gradually, my only solace became writing about you. I took refuge in the surge of poetry I discovered within myself. I had forgotten all about my heart, my mind, and my intelligence. What remained in place of them was poetry, and poetry alone. The notebook that began with a few verses now contains all the poetry of Muhammad and me. The preface of these years of love between us reads as follows:

Introduction

In the name of God, my Creator,
The Lord of my soul, the Sustainer of my being.
In the name of the God who created love,
In His kindness, I find my salvation.
The God who granted me a love so strong,
Now distant, but always within my heart.
Now, I speak of the separation and the distance,
The madness of this journey is my fate.

In every verse, I weave this pain,
For only the fire of love burns through me.

In University Days

In the bustle of university and the noise of students, I found no one to share my heart with. I would take my notebook and quietly pass by the university cafeteria, finding a spot to sit in the courtyard. Beneath a tall, green tree, my student days passed without him. The world had turned into nothing but poetry, and with each line, I created verses of separation for him.

Hello

O burning fire and my cries of sorrow, I greet you.
O tears of my pain, I greet you.
O sighs from the burning chest, I greet you.
In the gamble of love, I lost my heart and gave my soul.
O the sacrifice of my being, I greet you.
The patience of Jacob, I ask from you, O beautiful one,
O mountain of forbearance, I greet you.

The Beauty of Love

Your smile, my beautiful one, is the beauty itself.
To the eyes of the learned, your form is beautiful.
You are heavenly, and with me, you shall create the sun.
In your beauty, the stars shine forth.
The sea of your love, the treasure of your being,
The jewels of that treasure, they sparkle beautifully.
With your graceful stature, you have caused an upheaval,
A kiss on your thigh, O beautiful, is my paradise.

In University, Among Friends

In the university, for a long time, I sat under the same tall tree, by a pool of water filled with memories of you, speaking poetry in silence. My friends knew well by then that I had fallen in love. Sara, one of my friends from last year, would say: “Give it up! You can’t hide anything! You can’t write poetry or recite it unless you’re in love.”

At that moment, I recited the following poem for them:

The Beautiful Face

Your beautiful face makes me pure, O beloved,
It makes me patient, a Job of endurance, O beloved.
The night of embrace with you turns to moonlight,
Show your face, for it stirs my soul, O beloved.

The Eternal Love

You have stolen my heart, and my soul is no longer mine.
I write poems for you and for us, as my spirit becomes intoxicated with the love of you.
My beloved, in this world full of distractions, poetry is my language of love for you.

Conclusion

Love is not fleeting; it transcends time.
In poetry, I find you, and in you, I find the expression of my soul’s deepest desires.
Though we may be distant, our love remains immortal, forever etched in the verses of my heart.

Yekta-yi Bi-hamta (The One and Only)
Meter: Mustaf’ilun Mustaf’ilun Mustaf’ilun Mustaf’ilun
Rhyme: Rajas Mutamman Salim

She is the lover, the one whom I shall never see again like her.
She is the essence of the sea; I shall never see anyone like her.
Her mastery of charm, an endless circle of allure.
She is the graceful cup-bearer, the one I shall never see again like her.

Radiant like the sun, she fills me with hope,
The beloved who nurtures my soul, the one I shall never see again like her.
The spirit of my soul, like a flower, fills my cup,
She is the fairy of the wine, the one I shall never see again like her.

In love, intoxicated, moon-faced, sweet, pure, and harmonious,
She is a whirlwind of ecstasy, the one I shall never see again like her.
In both love and kindness, with the grace of a flower,
She is my Layla, the one I shall never see again like her.

In the vast desert of our city, the lost and the lovers alike,
She is unique, unmatched, the one I shall never see again like her.

Meaning of Love
Meter: Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’lan
Rhyme: Raml Mutamman Makhboun Mahzoof

For years, you have looked upon me—this is love.
You have sacrificed your heart and soul for me—this is love.
Drunk and playful, you appear in every moment,
With the charm of your body, you have crafted a trap—this is love.

That with a glance, you stole my heart,
The army of your beauty has attacked me—this is love.
The fervor of a fairy and the sweetness you offer,
Have stripped me of my strength—this is love.

You told me: “Your joy is my joy, be with me,”
You are both young and fresh—this is love.
The sharpness you wield in your gaze, like a citron’s slice,
You are a lover, unexpectedly captivated—this is love.

You are Zuleikha, my heart’s Layla, full of love and beauty,
The beloved who stole my heart—this is love.

The Beginning of Love
Meter: Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’lan
Rhyme: Raml Mutamman Mahzoof

I have a charming lover, full of intoxication and passion,
A soul-nourisher, a youth-bringer, boundless in spirit.
Your gaze is raw and mad, I became a dreamer,
The wise lover, the crazy one, an eternal legend.

The fiery storm of your glance is the beginning of love,
The seductive sway of your fairy-like form,
My worldly wisdom fell before you,
You are my love, my pain, my madness.

One day, I shall leave this world, but I shall not vanish,
For I have an endless and boundless love in my heart.
I am joyful, for you, my beloved, lead me to the truth,
Like a true and simple lover, full of passion and wisdom.

Love is my companion and support,
If your heart is like a candle, I am its butterfly.

The Work of Love
Meter: Muft’alan Fa’lan Muft’alan Fa’lan
*Rhyme: Mansarh Mutamman Maftou’

You are the one, my beloved, your work is nothing but love,
The gift of the Creator, your work is nothing but love.
Your work is nothing but love, my joyful beloved.
You are the playful one, your work is nothing but love.

Your work is nothing but love, the sweetest of smiles,
You are the joy in my life, your work is nothing but love.
Your work is nothing but love, the little girl who sells wine,
Give it to me, my heart’s delight, your work is nothing but love.

Your work is nothing but love, you are the finest in prayer,
I will walk the path of your love, your work is nothing but love.
Your work is nothing but love, my true love,
I am devoted to you, your work is nothing but love.

The Cycle of Repetition
Meter: Fa’oulun Fa’oulun Fa’oulun Fa’l
Rhyme: Mutaqarib Mutamman Mahzoof

Thus I speak, and I have spoken this many times:
You are my love, the moon of my face.
I am captured in the sweetness of your hair,
Your lock of hair wraps me in its threads.

I am joyful, O intoxicating eyes,
Spring is here, with a rain of congratulations.
With every sip of your tender, sweet wine,
I am refreshed, as if born anew.

You are my gem, the jewel of my soul,
You are my beloved, my flower in bloom.
Every moment, I give myself to you,
I am lost in the embrace of love and reunion.

I am this heart, the chant of a precious name,
I have taken my heart into a cycle of repetition.

The Spring of the Garden
Meter: Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’latun
Rhyme: Raml Mutamman Salim

O face of steadfastness, like the moonlight in its brilliance,
Your lips, like the meadow, with tulips and a whirlpool of joy.
The rush of your charm is like the storm,
A state of burning wonder, from your exquisite wine.

Your words burn with a sigh, a curtain of love and wisdom,
In your wisdom and insight, you shine as the guiding star.
Poets and kings, alike, would falter at a strand of your hair,
Your face, a mirror of your love, fills the world with light.

Like the Turkish lovers, agile, swift, and gentle,
You have stolen the heart of Hafez, and he gazes upon you.
You, the darling of spring, your fragrance is rich,
With me, every place carries the essence of this spring.

I am lucky and blessed, for this heart has found its joy,
O fate, O destiny, I am content with the dreams that you weave.

The Hard Pull
Meter: Muft’alan Muft’alan Fa’lan
Rhyme: Sari’ Mased Maktoub Maftou

Your voice, O siren, compels me—pull, pull!
Your hands, soft as the ear’s caress—listen, listen!
Drink my nectar, O moon-faced beauty,
The night whispers, silent, your lips, sweet wine.

O you, who intoxicate with your stormy allure,
I shall not resist, for silence is my only choice.
Without you, I remain motionless, lost in oblivion,
You have set my blood on fire, my veins filled with passion.

I burn in the flame of your love,
Drowning in your embrace, your touch.
O my breath, my life, my soul,
I hear your whispers, your every embrace.

You are the one, the arduous pull of love,
Sell me your wine, and I will buy it, forever yours.

The Burnt Heart
Meter: Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’lan
Rhyme: Raml Mutamman Makhdum

I have been gifted with a moon-faced lover,
A goblet of wine, filled with passion, takes flight.
The delicate limbs of the willow tree, the fragrant breeze,
The circle of my flowers offers its heart to the world.

The scent of orange blossoms, the glance of her eye,
The smile of her lips begins every tender gesture.
Narcissus, jasmine, lilies, and other flowers,
All intoxicated by my darling’s play of love.

Layla of love belongs to the beloved,
She is the moon of intoxication and the heart of every gesture.
Who is Zuleikha, to witness and fall into a trance?
The armies of lovers, loyal and bound to the whims of love.

Ah, my sorrow, my tears fall from the fire of this love,
For I am a heart that burns, and only love’s fire remains.

The Love of Woman
Meter: Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’lan
Rhyme: Raml Mutamman Mahzoof

The love of shame burns in my heart, my beloved,
I am a lover of love, for the beloved is my heart’s delight.
With you, I feel no sorrow, you are the enchantress of my soul.
With every word, your love pierces my heart.

Your love flows through my words, my darling,
The heat of love and kindness, you are my eternal companion.
You are the sky of my dreams, the horizon of my soul,
Your love carries my joy, for you are the essence of my faith.

I am a true lover, simple and trusting,
O Lord of purity, your hands are my guiding light.
Love is the sweet intoxication of my soul,
I walk towards you, the most joyful path of love.

Yekta-yi Bi-hamta (The One and Only)
Meter: Mustaf’ilun Mustaf’ilun Mustaf’ilun Mustaf’ilun
Rhythm: Rajaz Mutamman Salim

She is the lover, the one I shall never again encounter.
She is the essence of the sea; I shall never again encounter such as her.
Her mastery of charm, a constant and infinite cycle.
She is the beautiful cup-bearer, the one I shall never again encounter.

Radiant, like the sun, she gives me hope,
The beloved who revives my soul, the one I shall never again encounter.
The spirit of my soul, a flower, filling my cup with joy,
She is the fairy of wine, the one I shall never again encounter.

Like a lover intoxicated, moon-faced, sweet, pure, and full of delight,
She is a whirlwind of ecstasy, the one I shall never again encounter.
In both love and kindness, with the grace of a flower,
She is my Layla, the one I shall never again encounter.

In the vast desert of our city, the hearts of the lost and the lovers,
She is unique and incomparable, the one I shall never again encounter.

Meaning of Love
Meter: Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’lan
Rhythm: Raml Mutamman Makhboun Mahzoof

For years you have gazed upon me—this is love.
You have sacrificed both heart and soul for me—this is love.
In your intoxication, playful and light, you appear in every moment,
You have created a trap with the allure of your form—this is love.

The way with a single glance you stole my heart,
The army of your beauty has charged at me—this is love.
The fervour of a fairy and the sweetness you offer,
You have shattered my defences—this is love.

You said to me, “Your joy is mine; be with me,”
You are both young and fresh—this is love.
The sharpness in your gaze, like the edge of a citron,
You are the lover, unexpectedly caught in the snare—this is love.

You are Zuleikha, my heart’s Layla, full of affection and grace,
The beloved who captured my heart—this is love.

The Beginning of Love
Meter: Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’lan
Rhythm: Raml Mutamman Mahzoof

I have a captivating lover, full of intoxication and passion,
She is a soul-nourisher, youth-restoring, boundless in spirit.
Your gaze, untamed and wild, has left me spellbound,
The wise lover, the mad one, a timeless legend.

The blazing fire of your glance marks the beginning of love,
The seductive sway of your fairy-like presence,
My worldly wisdom fell, shattered before you,
You are my love, my sorrow, my madness.

One day, I will leave this world, but I shall not be forgotten,
For in my heart, I carry an endless and boundless love.
I am content with you, my beloved, leading me towards truth,
Like the pure and simple lover, full of passion and wisdom.

Love is my constant companion,
If your heart is a candle, I am its fluttering butterfly.

The Work of Love
Meter: Muft’alan Fa’lan Muft’alan Fa’lan
Rhythm: Mansarh Mutamman Makhzouf

You are the one, my beloved, your work is nothing but love,
A gift from the Creator, your work is nothing but love.
Your work is nothing but love, my joyful beloved.
You are the playful one, your work is nothing but love.

Your work is nothing but love, the sweetest of smiles,
You are the joy that fills my life, your work is nothing but love.
Your work is nothing but love, the little one who sells wine,
Give it to me, my heart’s delight, your work is nothing but love.

Your work is nothing but love, the most graceful in prayer,
I will walk the path of your love, your work is nothing but love.
Your work is nothing but love, my true love,
I am devoted to you, your work is nothing but love.

The Repetition Cycle
Meter: Fa’oulun Fa’oulun Fa’oulun Fa’l
Rhythm: Mutaqarib Mutamman Makhzouf

Thus I speak, and have spoken this many times:
You are my love, the moon of my face.
I am captured by the sweetness of your hair,
The strands of your hair wrap around me like threads.

I am joyful, O intoxicated eyes,
Spring is here, with showers of congratulations.
With every sip of your tender wine,
I am renewed, as if reborn.

You are my gem, the jewel of my soul,
You are my beloved, my flower of eternity.
Each moment, I give myself to you,
Lost in the embrace of love and reunion.

I am this heart, repeating the name of a precious love,
And I have taken my soul into a cycle of repetition.

The Spring of the Garden
Meter: Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’latun
Rhythm: Raml Mutamman Salim

O face of steadfastness, like the moonlight in its brilliance,
Your lips, like the meadow, with tulips and swirling joy.
The rush of your charm is like a storm,
A burning wonder, from your exquisite wine.

Your words are sighs, a curtain of love and wisdom,
In your wisdom and understanding, you shine as the guiding star.
Poets and kings alike falter at the mere strand of your hair,
Your face, a reflection of your love, fills the world with light.

Like the Turkish lovers, agile, swift, and delicate,
You have stolen the heart of Hafez, and his eyes are full of tears.
You, my darling, possess the essence of spring, your fragrance rich,
Wherever I go with you, this spring is eternally ours.

I am fortunate and blessed, for my heart has found its joy,
O fate, O destiny, I am content with the dreams you weave.

The Hard Pull
Meter: Muft’alan Muft’alan Fa’lan
Rhythm: Sari’ Mased Makhzouf

Your voice, O siren, calls to me—pull, pull!
Your hands, soft as the ear’s caress—listen, listen!
Drink my nectar, O moon-faced beauty,
The night whispers, silent, your lips, sweet wine.

O you, who intoxicate with your stormy allure,
I shall not resist, for silence is my only choice.
Without you, I remain motionless, lost in oblivion,
You have set my blood on fire, my veins filled with passion.

I burn in the flame of your love,
Drowning in your embrace, your touch.
O my breath, my life, my soul,
I hear your whispers, your every embrace.

You are the one, the arduous pull of love,
Sell me your wine, and I will buy it, forever yours.

The Burnt Heart
Meter: Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’lan
Rhythm: Raml Mutamman Makhdoum

I have been blessed with a moon-faced lover,
A goblet of wine, filled with passion, takes flight.
The delicate limbs of the willow tree, the fragrant breeze,
The circle of my flowers offers its heart to the world.

The scent of orange blossoms, the glance of her eye,
The smile of her lips begins every tender gesture.
Narcissus, jasmine, lilies, and other flowers,
All intoxicated by my darling’s play of love.

Layla of love belongs to the beloved,
She is the moon of intoxication and the heart of every gesture.
Who is Zuleikha, to witness and fall into a trance?
The armies of lovers, loyal and bound to the whims of love.

Ah, my sorrow, my tears fall from the fire of this love,
For I am a heart that burns, and only love’s fire remains.

The Love of Woman
Meter: Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’lan
Rhythm: Raml Mutamman Mahzoof

The love of shame burns in my heart, my beloved,
I am a lover of love, for the beloved is my heart’s delight.
With you, I feel no sorrow, you are the enchantress of my soul.
With every word, your love pierces my heart.

Your love flows through my words, my darling,
The heat of love and kindness, you are my eternal companion.
You are the sky of my dreams, the horizon of my soul,
Your love carries my joy, for you are the essence of my faith.

I am a true lover, simple and trusting,
O Lord of purity, your hands are my guiding light.
Love is the sweet intoxication of my soul,

Minavi’s State

Meter: Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’lan
Rhythm: Raml Musaddas Mahzouf

O, most passionate lover of perfect grace,
Your dazzling eyes, like gazelles, hold me in their chase.
The clarity of perception, it brightens my way,
Under the rain of my thoughts, you are the stream that stays.

My heart, in each pulse, longs for you,
It loves you, O fair one, in the present moment too.
The fierce flame of your intoxicated lips,
The crimson sip of wine and potion’s eclipse.

Your beauty is a method of madness so divine,
The pull of enchantment and magic align.
The intensity of your warmth is a volcano’s fire,
I am scattered by you, O tresses that inspire.

I am the bird of storms, with waves untamed,
Restless and in turmoil, O Lady of fame.
In your love, I am captivated, inspired by you,
In your gaze, eternal love is renewed.

Pure Love

Meter: Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’latun Fa’lan
Rhythm: Raml Muthamman Mahzouf

The scent of rain, love, and joy you impart,
The soul of the passionate lover, pure love from the start.
Your love is a rainbow, with colors so bright,
On the bitter silence, you shower kindness and light.

With your gentle gaze, flames ignite in my heart,
In your youth, in your spring, a new start.
The scent of humanity, of life, and the divine,
O, you, who grant me eternal trust, so fine.

You are spring, and with you, reason slips into madness,
Enduring love, the soul’s enduring gladness.
O kind one, your gaze is the spell of love and loyalty,
With every glance, you give me faith, so unearthly.

I, this heart, am enamored with your sight,
O beautiful moon, you fill my soul with light.
You are the joy of my soul, O fairy-like moon,
My beloved, my devotion to you is a sweet tune.

The Beloved Soul

Meter: Mustafilun Mustaf’lan Mustaf’lan Mustafilun
Rhythm: Rajaz Muthamman Salim

O companion, O friend, O fiery wine,
The moon of the sky, the finest divine.
My beginning, O my charm, O confidante and guide,
The earth of your love is my Shiraz, by your side.

Your essence is kind, your heart is the sea of life,
In your chest, a hero’s soul, with no strife.
In your mouth, your name and grace, I am tamed,
With you, my heart rests, in love’s sweet flame.

O rose, O jasmine, O lily fair,
Your graceful steps hold my heart in prayer.
Every moment I yearn for your breath, your sigh,
Sweetest and most tender, O love, you defy.

O charming eyes, your arches like a bow,
O faithful one, O graceful soul, aglow.
You are the calm of my heart, the queen of my soul,
The beloved of my spirit, you make me whole.

The Breath

Meter: Mustafilun Fa’latun Fa’lun
Rhythm: Hazaj Musaddas Akhrab Maqbu’ud Mahzouf

You are the beloved who holds sweet charm,
Your thousand caresses, the balm to my harm.
I moan in agony, burning in pain,
You hold my chest, open like a window in rain.

Your smile, a trap, so deliciously sweet,
You possess the laughter that makes hearts beat.
I am burning, bleeding within, O beloved one,
Your charm leads me to ruin, yet I’m undone.

I have passed beyond my prayers for you,
In your love, I find devotion so true.
Your love is hidden, in modesty so high,
In your humility, my heart is shy.

You are revered, adored, and kind,
This tale of love you hold entwined.
Without your gaze, my breath would cease,
O sweet one, grant me your tender peace.

The Soul of Love

Meter: Mafa’ilun Mafa’ilun Mafa’ilun Mafa’ilun
Rhythm: Hazaj Muthamman Salim

A beautiful flower of the city, you, the charming one,
A flower of enchantment, your laughter, the sun.
You rise, and Zuleikha takes her turn to dance,
Layla and Shirin feel your magic’s trance.

O sweet-hearted one, with your playful sigh,
Like the moon’s glow, you make hearts fly.
Your essence, a tale of love so deep,
You walk in joy, your love for keeps.

The gaze of your eyes, a thousand spells,
With every glance, my heart swells.
O beauty of your lips, my soul craves,
With your embrace, you fill the darkest caves.

Your spirit, like a flame, I am set ablaze,
In your love, my heart finds its place.
O soul of love, with passion untold,
You are the fire that burns bright and bold.

Drowned in Bliss

Meter: Mustafilun Mustaf’lan Mustaf’lan Mustafilun
Rhythm: Raml Muthamman Mahzouf

Every heart is drowned in bliss, its peace held within,
The joy of love, with the heart’s finest spin.
The hidden heart, the giver of soul’s delight,
With pleasure and sweetness, I taste your light.

In every soul, you are the wine of joy,
The sting and the sweetness, life’s ploy.
Rebellions, storms, cries, and more,
In life’s fiery embrace, we soar.

The sorrowful cries, every river of tears,
In the charm of your smile, all fear clears.
You are the essence of happiness and bliss,
The true meaning of life, I find in your kiss.

The work of the faithful, with love’s pure hand,
In your embrace, I stand.