From Tehran’s dark gates, where the mourners assemble,
The black tide moves east, hear the iron wheels tremble.
Each turn of the axle, a sob on the track,
Each city left grieving, not calling him back
But sending him forward, where mercy is poured,
To the feet of the King, to the shrine of the Lord.
The dust of Qom rises, the cypresses sway,
Kashan’s old gardens have wept into gray.
Neyshabur whispers his name on the wind,
As the caravan halts and the faithful begin
To beat their chests, to tear at their clothes,
For the kind-hearted man who in service arose.
O servant of Reza, your footsteps are worn
On the stones of the path that the blessed have borne.
You swept every threshold, you healed every tear,
Now the end of your journey is finally here.
Mashhad unveils her gold dome to the sky
The gates swing open, the angels draw nigh.
Imam, stretch Your hand through that radiant space
Embrace him, O Reza, with infinite grace.
Let Tehran’s farewell be lost in Your light
The kind-hearted man rests in Your arms tonight.
Disclaimer : This story is auto aggregated by a computer programme and has not been created or edited by DOWNTHENEWS. Publisher: tehrantimes.com
