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Maleksabet Ebrahimi Poem
Though caged in a corner where gallows still loom,
Beware — for it sails on a wave of dark gloom.
A wave from the sea of existence runs red,
A net cast through nightfall and daylight ahead.
You, sovereign hawk in this narrow domain —
Be not content, for these bars still remain.
Yet I bring good news from the breath of the Divine:
Safe shores await, where escape is still mine.
Step once beyond this cocoon of despair —
And hundreds of cages dissolve in the air.
The Master of Being, who raised “Malek” from none,
Now stands in this riddle — where all is undone.
Doubt not — you were sent to remain and embrace,
The cosmos is bursting with kisses and grace.
Copyright © Maleksabet Ebrahimi | Year Posted 2025
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Maleksabet Ebrahimi Poem
We live — but not on level ground,
We are sunlight clinging to the edge of a crumbling wall.
I remembered Grandmother’s voice,
She warned me once: “Boy, beware the fall.”
We leap —
and soon enough
this house of days
will crash upon us all.
We were mountains once —
and still we held,
Like millstones
bearing every crushing call.
In a blink, the starling flew —
and from the highlands, they all withdraw.
I suffer the market’s ache today,
Where souls are sold and bent to law.
She asked me,
“What are you doing here?”
“Growing fat in a pasture
meant for slaughter.”
Knives are sharpened, lambs grow sleek —
In the end,
the knife writes every fate.
Traps and snares on every path —
from the tavern’s door to the lover’s gate.
And when the final cup is drained,
They march us up
the gallows straight.
But look —
again, our morning reign begins!
The sun breaks through the long black night.
Grief has closed its weary eyes —
I’ve carried so much pain
to reach this light.
And now, today, the “King” is smiling,
Joyful in his lover’s gaze —
They meet beneath the sky
in a world remade
by morning’s blaze.
Copyright © Maleksabet Ebrahimi | Year Posted 2025
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Maleksabet Ebrahimi Poem
Far from the homeland, when lips part to speak,
This Persian candy works wonders, magic unique.
The spell of Rumi’s verse, of Hafez’ deep art,
In distant lands, it uplifts every heart.
A potion of love rides this caravan’s crest—
Saadi himself boasts of its charm manifest.
Open your eyes, and at this threshold stay—
The Masnavi begins to tell your tale today.
Yes, the key to the treasure of bliss is our tongue—
Rumi unlocks his vault where legends are sung.
The world is our homeland, in this unmatched place—
Our Persian speech bestows us with grace.
Copyright © Maleksabet Ebrahimi | Year Posted 2025
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Maleksabet Ebrahimi Poem
A tale is told of a cruel man
who once cast a stone at a righteous dervish’s head.
The poor man, too meek to strike back,
picked up the stone and kept it close?—?
waiting.
Time passed.
The king, angered by that cruel man’s misdeeds,
cast him into a bottomless, dark pit.
The dervish came to the edge,
aimed?—?
and hurled the same stone down upon him.
The man cried out,
“Who are you, and why strike me now?”
The dervish replied,
“I am the one you struck that day?—?
And this is the very stone you threw.”
“But where were you all this time?”
asked the man.
The dervish smiled:
“I feared your power.
But now, seeing you in a pit instead of a palace?—?
I saw my moment and seized it.”
Copyright © Maleksabet Ebrahimi | Year Posted 2025
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