In this dead end
They
smell your mouth
To find out if you have told someone:
I love you!
They smell your heart!
Such a strange time it is, my dear;
And they punish Love
At thoroughfares
By flogging.
We must hide our Love in dark closets.
In this crooked dead end of a bitter cold
They keep their fire alive
By burning our songs and poems;
Do not place your life in peril by your thoughts!
Such a strange time it is, my dear!
He who knocks on your door in the middle of the night,
His mission is to break your Lamp!
We must hide our Lights in dark closets!
Behold! butchers are on guard at thoroughfares
With their bloodstained cleavers and chopping-boards;
Such a strange time it is, my dear!
They cut off the smiles from lips,
and the songs from throats!
We must hide our Emotions in dark closets!
They barbecue canaries
On a fire of jasmines and lilacs!
Such a strange time it is, my dear!
Intoxicated by victory,
Satan is enjoying a feast at our mourning table!
We must hide our God in dark closets!
Ahmad Shamloo, July 1979
In the early days of the Islamic revolution,
young men and women were sent into the streets to enforce the moral
code of the shari'a or religious law, in some cases acting violently
and excessively. They "smelled the mouth" if they suspected someone
of drinking alcohol, which could be followed by a lashing, and they
wiped lipstick from women's mouths, sometimes even cutting the lips
with a razor.
from Modern Persian Poetry, edited
by Mahmud Kianush, Rockingham Press, 1996
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