For Samira Makhmalbaf
Written by Nurel Javissyarqi
Translated by Agus B. Harianto
From the gate of Iran
flapped the princess with eagle’s wing.
Strength of her soul anxious
acrossed the vortex of cloud.
Height of the wave of silence
such as butterflies wade lotus.
Closing wings of books on the lap
her cute eyes tantalizes the man.
Prince glanced from the throne
shaded by light of the tranquility of twilight.
Along with shepherd flute singing on valley
attracted the deep love of date’s palms.
Invited to incarnate the sun
swayed the roar of wind, on
the dust surrounding the flare of longing.
Rolling to burn the age,
sweat is boiling and passion expressed
hurled rocks transformed the full moon.
Odorous night of flowers kanthil
as strong as stupa staunchly upright
as sap trees shall not collapse.
Wandered the dream educated by the Mpu
when he was sharpening the kris has seven groove
persistence to receive the destiny of time.
The cloud of history was as thunderous as the soul of the universe.
I do not know where is she now?
Hopefully she still loves the land of Iran.