By Henrik Eger
For those women
who have suffered in Iran,
who have suffered abroad.
For those who are still enduring.
who have suffered in Iran,
who have suffered abroad.
For those who are still enduring.
Beautiful, young Iranian woman against historic background. Photo by Mysterious Iran.
IRAN!
She a mother, a sister, she.
She a wife, a woman, she.
She a daughter, orphan, she.
IRAN!
She the desert, a village, she.
An endless gulf, a city, she.
She the field, an alley, she.
IRAN!
She the nomad and the teacher,
she. She the worker, the nurse,
the doctor, she.
IRAN!
She the rice and she the tea.
She the fruit, all carpets
and the oil.
IRAN!
She the body, aching back
and aching limbs. She the brain,
searching under labor pains.
IRAN, IRAN!
She the veil and she the fist.
She the hunger and the thirst
for freedom, she.
IRAN, IRAN, IRAN!
This poem was written in Kerman during the Iranian Revolution in the Fall of 1978, when the universities already had closed because of the unrest and the boycott of universities by Iranian professors and students.
In 1979-80, it was performed in (then) Bombay in front of large groups of Iranian and Indian students with a sitar player accompanying my reading these poems. When I read "Iran, Iran, Iran!" I could no longer hold back tears, neither could the Iranian musician and most members in the audience.
She a mother, a sister, she.
She a wife, a woman, she.
She a daughter, orphan, she.
IRAN!
She the desert, a village, she.
An endless gulf, a city, she.
She the field, an alley, she.
IRAN!
She the nomad and the teacher,
she. She the worker, the nurse,
the doctor, she.
IRAN!
She the rice and she the tea.
She the fruit, all carpets
and the oil.
IRAN!
She the body, aching back
and aching limbs. She the brain,
searching under labor pains.
IRAN, IRAN!
She the veil and she the fist.
She the hunger and the thirst
for freedom, she.
IRAN, IRAN, IRAN!
This poem was written in Kerman during the Iranian Revolution in the Fall of 1978, when the universities already had closed because of the unrest and the boycott of universities by Iranian professors and students.
In 1979-80, it was performed in (then) Bombay in front of large groups of Iranian and Indian students with a sitar player accompanying my reading these poems. When I read "Iran, Iran, Iran!" I could no longer hold back tears, neither could the Iranian musician and most members in the audience.
If you are interested in publishing or adapting this copyrighted poem by setting it to music, staging or filming it, etc., please contact the author.
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