My moustache
As reader take some time
As we did in Tehran…
My friend and myself
Politely, stood there.
It was in time of Shah
Or Shahpoor Bakhtiar.
Tehran U, in front,
The bookshops behind us.
Some shouted slogans
Some looted, attacked walls.
Then, we, were not involved
Just stood, observed, watched.
Of nowhere, few men
Came close, looked at us,
Spoke rough, used insults.
I laugh when give that time's
Incidents, new life,
And judgement for moustache.
Both of us in thirties
Wore moustache, quite thick.
To them we were parts of
The Moustached communists.
So, we heard the nicknames
Given to those on left…
Those Muslims, extremists
Found nothing else to see!
Portland and other towns,
Both pro and the cons
Take me back to Tehran.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem