Poetry A Word with Majesty   July 1997 iranian.com After we whipped the sea in a foreign land, our children wept every night for a piece of bread. What glories did you bring, Xerexes, beyond a silk coffin? What glories other than a golden tomb? Three thousand years of a blood bath! Three thousand years of wild poppies grown in the desert, three thousand years of the sound of a harp coming from an unknown cave or a grave! Who taught us to write poetry with our blood? Hafez understood Khayyam well. His wine is pouring from the same jug that was once filled with blood shed by the Tartars, and takes its daily fill from Nishapur. When Mazdak spoke of equality he must have known we have the same blood color. After we lit the first fire to burn forever, since we endeared the sun, and took water for mirror, our hearts have gone ablaze. Copyright 1996 by Ali Zarrin .................... Say goodbye to spam! * * COMMENT For letters section To Ali Zarrin * FAQ * Advertising * Support iranian.com * Editorial policy * Write for Iranian.com * Reproduction

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