The Art Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

The Art

My goblet fills when he
Becomes a canary,
Want the wine of Shiraz.

Tap Hafez on shoulder:
"Let us go to Khayyam! "

All of us get drunk
In cities of the arts.

Comes to me my father
With clouds, as thunder!

He is filled with anger:
"Depart and go away! "

Remember, he, always,
Was the finest, calmest.

Shiver when see him in
The way, is, some tiger.

Hear his voice echo
As if falls in cascade.

"How can you disgrace
The team of musicians? "

He believed; I know well:
"Never let word wander! "

So, stopped, explained:
"Composers, players
Uncovered his talent,
Without them a singer
Stays dirt and dormant."

From now I avoid
Respecting the singers
That steal songs from
Their writers, players.