White Rose Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

White rose

Thirty boys
Early teens
In class for learning…

Topic was SO3,
Chemistry!
And teacher, Moezzi.

He spoke, explained
Formulas on the board
Simple and too plain
There talk was with chalk.

Each three shared a bench
Straight and wooden the tables
We hid books, bags, papers
Unless for needing in that lesson…

Teacher made sort of gas
Stunk bad,
It turned Red of the rose into white…

Poor were our school and classes
Devoted parents and our teachers
They taught us with their lives
So we learnt with our hearts
SO3 and changes are therefore carved in mind…

Like physics, vacuum
Nirooee, steaming the water
Vacuum making the metal to puncture…

I remain a slave
To teachers of such kind, that system
To turn us into good students
They loved us with eager; were great,
Did not seek money and business…

I bow and dedicate this poem
To you as the sample pioneers
May your souls rest in peace; be blessed…