Born from dry wood
And timbre
With leather hide and strings
An accompaniment
Of the songs of love
And grief and happiness
The old and the youth
The play of fantasy
Like Rumi’s reed
Picked from the wood
That has seen
Years of seasons
In wilderness
The consolation of poor
The joy of rich
Music with tunes
A song of love
For love has no words
The magical instrument
Melody sweet
The voice of heart
In the village
The man broken
By the days work
Where is the rebel
The rebel in the music
The electrification
Asks the beloved
Centuries of slumber
Symbol of change
The beloved
Tired
Of praises
The world has changed
Changed into paces
Difficult to follow
Though
The instruments of strings
Have been its offsprings
The player
The beloved
New tones
Play it loud
The world is changing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem