re: Soul and body – Parvin Etesami

During my trip to Iran, in the city of Shiraz, visiting the Tomb of Hafez with my Son and friend Mohammad Hasani, I bought a book with the most important Iranian poets and found this wonderful lady. Parvin Etesami and here you can read her interesting biography:’tesami

I transcribed this poem that I share willingly:

Soul and body

A certain child had a red garb, he was happy with this garb for a many days.
He cherished it like his own soul, regarded it much better then sweetmeat.
He accounted it as property and wealth, every hour he wiped out the dust from it.
He concealed it from the evil eyes, when he looked at its red colour, bloomed like a rose.
If a drop of tear cast on its skirt, the small child sucks that bright tear’s drop.
If a thread was blow out its sleeve, he ran to her
mother to repair it.
At the time of playing in the plain or desert, he crossed the children turning his nose up at them.
That garb made many troubles among the children, for all of them wished to borrow it.
All the hearts were at the stake of it, for all the children like the new clothes.
At the time of departure, he was the leader of the folk; at the time of banquet or playing, he assigned the kind of the children.
Now a child brought him a delicious fruit inviting him to the village.
Now another child sat softly and gently beside him to touch his red garb for a moment.
One day that playful and prideful child was playing with other children, he stumbled over a hill.
Thorns and thistles rent his garb and his head broken by bouncing a rock.
The wretched boy disregarded his broken head, as he beheld the rent garb he started to cry.
Although a lot of blood flowed from his head, he was shedding tears for his garb.
If we look through the eye of heart, my friend we are like that children in many ways.
Our colourful garb is our avarice and airs, whatever inflicted upon us rooted in our greed.
Our desires are fat, our reason is lean, we have passed many years, but we are child yet.
We have set aside our soul thinking of our body, our body rotted away and yet we are concerning for our shirt.

Iranian photographers


The Tomb of Hafez in Shiraz


A good reader of poetry


Mohammad Hasani and Teodoro




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