Poetry about Tehran, old and beautiful, crowded and romantic and Milad Tower
Tehran poems I'm gonna run A little bit of separation, apart from the memory of memories. Get cancer O my soul is my soul Passed and passed on and crocheted Tired of the city's view Tired of the bitter view of Tehran Tired of the vomiting in the throat Crying out a crying man silently ♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠ The street is yours, Tehran is yours The trees next to these streets are your spring You were raining in the rain, and everywhere you go Still, these green branches are under your burden This city is still yours and your mention and prayer Azan, mosque to mosque, recount your credentials You were the Sun from our generation, Muhammad, our oldest The world is in your orbit to see the sun tomorrow You are the spring of Sarani, which is also Lebanon and Palestine If you have a drop of blood, it is safe to you If Johnny is in the dream vessels called Ghods It is the steps of your fasting followers There is still dark