“A dumb halo of sorrow lurks in Shirin's cold gaze,Reclining on the marble columns of the veranda,A pregnant cat is sleeping on her lapAnd slowly snores.The Shirin's image north of the gardenIs hanging on an apple tree;Khosrow, in love with another mistress, mockingly mutters;How can the eye in this imageShow the trace of lover breathing eye of Shirin?…??For a moment Khosrow beats at the bow and says:Shirin's eye is a good target, I have ordainedThat this new bow should be tried on it.Khosrow, the king of the world,The master of archers,Pulled out an arrow from his quiver.This Parthian arrow, this nimble flying hawk,Is familiar with the bow and the thumb.A spark rose from Mount Bistoun,Was it the lightening from Farhad's ax?An angry flame is blazing in the image's eye,The loud uproar,The loud clamor of Farhad's heart,Is robing sleep from the cat's eye.”Farrokh Tamimi Poet, Farhad
“Stranger to love and the benevolenthand of age……History has recorded on our papery heartsBy the reedAnd each partition of the reedComplains of the Masnavi of our groans: ………..??The lines in your hands(these winding roads)Is familiar to my eye.Believe meThe lines in your handAre more familiar to me than my own lines…AhO friend…They buried us together in the graveA thousand years ago”Farrokh Tamimi Poet, Fare welling Hands