شب جاهلان فارسی 1397

Musa Sahar's youthful voice had charm; He sings magically, strangely and magical and endearing. The mind of men takes work and cultivation to the far reaches of youth; Gone are the loves and passions, wrestling with each other, mass channeling, to the days when young girls came to the Chinese cluster and single men had their hearts in pledge to a woman. Musa rekindled youth in the hearts of working men; The freshness of the rainy years, the heat of Jodro, the spring rains that caused the camels to overflow, and sometimes the taming of the rebellious horses of Khan, who brings the young girls from the capers to watch in the arena. The sound of reeds seemed to come from the bones of old men. Mirza was playing, Musa was singing, hearts were warm and imaginations were expanding in heads. "I loaded the tail at the port in the morning / what a bad thing I did that I turned my back." I arrived at the edge of the Shotoroud River / I sat down and cried a lot. An old man wailed from the corner: "Your mother's milk is halal, Musa."