If the flames of anger rise any higher in this land
Your name on your tombstone will be covered with dirt.
You have become a babbling loudmouth.
Your insolent ranting, something to joke about.
The lies you have found, you have woven together.
The rope you have crafted, you will find around your neck.
Pride has swollen your head, your faith has grown blind.
The elephant that falls will not rise.
Stop this extravagance, this reckless throwing of my country to the wind.
The grim-faced rising cloud, will grovel at the swamp's feet.
Stop this screaming, mayhem, and blood shed.
Stop doing what makes God's creatures mourn with tears.
My curses will not be upon you, as in their fulfillment.
My enemies' afflictions also cause me pain.
You may wish to have me burned , or decide to stone me.
But in your hand match or stone will lose their power to harm me.
Simin Behbahani, Iran's national poet.
June 2009 Translated by Kaveh Safa and Farzaneh Milani
In this poem, she speaks out against the crackdown of Iranian government on their own people.
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