I have criticized you, and gave you crap, and you said nothing.
I have demanded that you act now, because I couldn’t, and you said nothing.
I have hated you for not getting on your horse to the frontier, and you said nothing.
I have made all the arguments in the world, degraded you, and you still said nothing.
I have wanted to cry and apologize, and expected a roar, and you supported me.
I have been out of a job, and wrote to you, and you supported me.
The whole of Iran is at each others throat, and you supported all.
There is chaos everywhere, and you remain calm.
And so I see that you and John Keats have a lot more common than having the same birthday when he said, “He ne’er is crowned with immortality who fears to follow where airy voices lead.”
Happy Birthday my King.
Ali Mostofi
