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Saeed Koushan Poem
Tonight from all but you, my love, I part,
And turn to gold my faint and weary heart.
To taste the draught your alchemy bestows,
Through passion’s fire my seeking spirit goes.
The harp and lute enchant the midnight air,
Yet still your words outshine all music there.
You spoke of rain, of thorns along the way,
Through sleepless nights I guard your grief away.
While friends grow drunk on wine’s unsteady bliss,
I’m lost within the wine of your one kiss.
If dawn should grant the joy for which I pray,
Before the world my love I will display.
I count your laughter laced in every line,
Each smile you give makes all my sorrows fine.
For every grain of love you choose to send,
As straw to amber’s magic light, I bend.
Let morning’s breeze bring whispers soft and true—
Your name, the secret dawn my spirit knew.
So known am I along the road you tread,
I guide each stranger where your light has led.
Though ruby wine now shimmers in the bowl,
For love of you I keep my spirit whole.
Since to your face my heart’s devotion clings,
I rule my heart’s own realm, the lord of kings.
Though once I sought you night and day through rain,
Now in my realm, as master, I remain.
Copyright © Saeed Koushan | Year Posted 2025
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Saeed Koushan Poem
Cultural and Social Terms
Idol: In Persian poetry, often refers to the beloved, particularly one who is non-Muslim. The term carries complex connotations of forbidden desire and spiritual challenge.
Veil: Refers both to the physical head covering and the metaphysical veil between the material and spiritual worlds in Sufi thought.
Fate's Wheel: The wheel of fortune or destiny (charkh-e falak), a common motif in Persian literature representing the unpredictable nature of fate.
Character Names
Giti: A Persian name meaning "world" or "universe," suggesting the beloved encompasses all existence for the lover.
Saeed: An Arabic name meaning "happy" or "blessed," ironic given the character's suffering in love.
Poetic Devices and Concepts
Ghazal tradition: Though this is a masnavi, it draws heavily from the ghazal (lyric poem) tradition of Persian literature, with its emphasis on unrequited love and spiritual longing.
Tavern: In Sufi poetry, the tavern represents the place of spiritual gathering and divine intoxication, not literal alcohol consumption.
Cup and Wine: The cup represents the heart or soul, while wine represents divine love or spiritual knowledge.
Dawn: Often symbolizes spiritual awakening, hope, or the appearance of the beloved.
Mystical Concepts
Fana: The Sufi concept of self-annihilation or dissolution of the ego in divine love, reflected in the lovers' ultimate union where individual identity dissolves.
Ishq: Divine or passionate love that transcends ordinary human affection, central to Sufi thought and Persian poetry.
Longing (Hijr): The pain of separation from the beloved, considered a necessary stage in spiritual development.
Historical Context
Persian Literary Tradition: This work draws from the rich tradition of Persian mystical poetry, including works by Rumi, Hafez, Saadi, and others who used love poetry as a vehicle for spiritual expression.
Courtly Love: The formal, ritualized expression of love that characterized medieval Persian court culture, with its emphasis on patience, suffering, and devotion.
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Note: Many terms in Persian mystical poetry carry multiple layers of meaning - literal, romantic, and spiritual - simultaneously. This ambiguity is intentional and central to the tradition's power and enduring appeal.
Copyright © Saeed Koushan | Year Posted 2025
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Saeed Koushan Poem
I.
I fold my mother's silver spoon—crescent bright,
worn soft as secrets whispered through the night.
Her thumb's warm press, a tender, sacred trace,
curves like a prayer held close in time and place.
Now bitter dust swirls in plastic's cold embrace,
instant coffee falls—no homeland to retrace.
II.
The clerk repeats my name—a broken hymn,
I spell each letter till the sounds grow dim.
A lullaby that once made sorrow fade,
now splinters sharp like glass in morning shade.
Grandmother's voice dissolves without a trace—
erased by tongues that cannot hold her grace.
III.
At laundromats, I fold shirts worn and thin,
and hold the shape where father's frame has been.
Beside me, whispers soft as evening rain:
"Mi amor"—melodies that heal some pain.
I swallow embers burning in my chest,
Persian fires I'm forbidden to confess.
IV.
Here, tall trees stand—no desert wind's sharp bite,
back home, jasmine chokes in fading light.
Those roots broke concrete, shattered stone with might,
thirsting for waters lost to endless flight.
They claimed the earth, reclaimed their ancient right—
seeking the drink that made their blossoms bright.
V.
I study mathematics of my loss—
subtract the dawn prayer's shimmer and its gloss,
divide sweet dates by oceans vast and wide,
multiply silence by the tears I hide.
Yet still my dreams speak Persian—wild and free,
tongue honeyed with the taste of what could be.
VI.
My sun-dark hands plant mint in coffee cans,
where memories bloom beyond their native lands.
Green leaves unfurl like secrets I once kept,
curled tight as letters that my mother wept.
I tell the soil: "Grow fierce, defy their plans,
crack pavement wide, take root where no one stands."
A silver shoot breaks through at break of dawn—
mother's voice whispers: "My love, you are not gone."
Copyright © Saeed Koushan | Year Posted 2025
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Saeed Koushan Poem
Introduction
"The Masnavi of Giti and Saeed" is a modern reimagining of a classic Persian love epic, woven from the threads of ancient myth, Sufi mysticism, and the eternal yearning of two souls. It tells the tale of Giti and Saeed—lovers bound by fate and challenged by the trials of longing and destiny. In this retelling, the timeless language of Persian mysticism meets contemporary poetic sensibility, inviting readers into a world where each image, each sigh, carries the weight of devotion and the spark of transcendence.
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Part One — In the Name of God
O Sovereign of the world's design
You know all secrets in the wine
The painter of both seen and hidden realms
Your wisdom guides where fortune helms.
The fountain of each form and face
In You all qualities find place.
Your breath gave life to lifeless clay,
Your light still guides us on our way.
First written in love's sacred flame,
O Craftsman of beauty—praise Your name!
Sweet Venus tunes her aching strings,
For longing hearts her melody sings.
Before all time, Your being stood,
Self-sustained, eternal, wholly good.
None bore You forth, nor child have You,
Yet boundless joy from You flows through.
The lover learned from You to yearn,
In Your sweet absence, watched hearts burn.
We glow with warmth Your presence brings,
And bow in thanks for all good things.
Part Two — The Cause for Telling the Tale
One day, in sorrow for my friend so dear,
I wept for love that brought both joy and fear.
"O Heavens! Why this bitter mask you wear?
Why turn my song to notes of deep despair?"
Without that moon-faced, radiant light,
Each day I burned through endless night.
Each dawn brought cries of aching pain,
Till all the world could hear my strain.
How, when, and where this tale took flight—
With her, so rare, so pure, so bright.
That sea of grace, my soul's sweet bane,
That lovely sprite who broke my chain.
How did she cast me in sorrow's deep sea?
How did her absence wound the heart of me?
So much I wept, so many prayers I cried,
I left it all to fate to be my guide.
Let destiny reveal what it may show,
What fruits from this sweet madness yet may grow.
I wrote this tale of love's eternal flame,
Love came and sealed my fate and carved its name.
Copyright © Saeed Koushan | Year Posted 2025
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Saeed Koushan Poem
Part Twenty-Four — The Fifth Cupbearer's Song
O Saqi, one glance—show mercy here,
And heal this wound with wine so clear.
Fill up the cup for we are dry,
Drunk with desire that makes us sigh.
That cup like chalice of the kings,
Whose breath brought joy to all good things.
A draught that when it's poured for any,
Banishes sorrow, heals so many.
Bring forth that heavy goblet bright
To ease the heart and bring the light.
O minstrel, play that reed of fire,
How long must I bear this desire?
Play me a tune that lifts me high
Beyond this realm up to the sky.
Strike the harp with soulful art,
Let music fire every heart.
Play us like the lute's sweet tone
Till sorrow flees and joy has grown.
A hand for mine has lost its might,
A step for I've collapsed in flight.
Part Twenty-Five — Saeed Comes to Ask for Giti's Hand
One day with longing burning bright,
Young Saeed rose in morning light.
To see his dear he made his way
With family beside him on that day.
With humble prayer and whispered plea,
He sought her door on bended knee.
Toward Giti's grace their steps were drawn
By stars of fate and fortune's dawn.
Drunk with dreams and rapture's glow,
A cup of hope his heart did show.
He prayed that she might yield, give sign,
And let his destiny with hers align.
For Giti was his final aim,
Each thread of her love's woven flame.
His heart within her tresses tied
As if by fate itself allied.
Her face outshone both sun and moon,
Her union sweeter than life's boon.
They said, "This rose with beauty crowned
Has left our restless hearts spellbound."
"We wish to plant love's sacred seed
And celebrate this blessed deed."
Part Twenty-Six — Giti Falls for Saeed
Sweet Giti, scented like the rose,
The queen of beauty, heaven chose.
Her hair a snare of midnight's hue,
Her brows like archer's deadly view.
Her glances sharp with secret fire,
No heart could flee that sweet desire.
To hunt down hearts with lashes drawn,
Her eyes like weapons of the dawn.
With every breath she'd steal a heart,
With every smile, new life would start.
Her heart, a chest, unlocked its door:
"What burns in him burns in me more!"
That night her thoughts with Saeed stayed,
His name upon her lips she prayed.
It seemed that love had found its home
Within her heart's most sacred dome.
At once the world and all it knew
Felt dear as if love made all new.
As though sweet Venus closed her sight
To all but him, her chosen light.
Copyright © Saeed Koushan | Year Posted 2025
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Saeed Koushan Poem
Part Thirty — The Story's End
Sweet Giti, gem in heaven's ring,
Stayed true in love through everything.
Her heart she gave to her dear flame,
Soul's companion, love's sweet name.
And Saeed—behold his blessed state!
Though challenged by his cruel fate,
Hear how his trials came to bear
His faithful heart, worn down by care.
Despite the wounds and aching soul,
From strangers' scorn and kin's control,
Praise be! The face of peace he found,
His shirt of sorrow torn and drowned.
He bound his heart to lover's hair,
Escaped the world's cold, harsh despair.
In joy they lived, in laughter bright,
Their sacred vows, their hearts alight.
Two bodies but one soul complete,
In love's sweet street they found their beat.
No more "Giti" or "Saeed" to name,
Just Wine and Cup, one heart, one flame.
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Thus ends the tale of love's sweet art,
Where two souls joined to make one heart.
Copyright © Saeed Koushan | Year Posted 2025
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Saeed Koushan Poem
## 1.
A morning cloaked in guile arrives,
It breathes upon my land, no light,
This realm now bound in frost's cold curse,
Where hearts are held in icy night.
## 2.
The spirits of the blameless weep,
Their muted cries pierce through the air,
For sins they never chose to bear—
Their names erased beyond repair.
## 3.
With honeyed kiss and lullaby,
The traitor dawn shuts down our eyes,
Where hope is strangled soft and sly,
And broken vows beneath us lie.
## 4.
The sun, a silent witness, spies
The dawn's betrayal through the skies,
But feigns its sleep and turns away—
A coward in the light of day.
## 5.
No rustle of the autumn leaves,
No summer warmth that might relieve,
The garden walls stand cold and bare—
No mercy left to heal despair.
## 6.
Rivers once bold now silent grow,
Their silver tongues now mute with fear,
While ravens feast on what they know—
The death that flows through waters clear.
## 7.
The dawn devours our silent screams,
It murders night's forbidden dreams,
And drowns tomorrow's golden gleam—
A thief of time's eternal stream.
## 8.
They steal the fire I've kept within,
And brand upon my bleeding heart
The name of every fallen kin—
A wound that tears my soul apart.
## 9.
The dawn—like some mourning queen—
Adorns herself in veils of grey,
Kneels upon my homeland's grave,
To weep for what was swept away.
## 10.
Then breaks the earth, her children rise
With hollow gaze from soil's deep night—
The reckoning begins at last now,
A resurrection from this blight.
## 11.
O Saqi! Pour from wine-dark depths,
The draught of ancient mothers' tears,
To drown this nation's burning grief,
The burden of forgotten years.
## 12.
O minstrel! Raise your music high,
Let us dance upon the burning ground,
From ashes new, the phoenix soars—
With wings of fire, freedom-bound.
## 13.
Each night I bear death's whispered song,
Its hollow tune beats in my chest—
Yet still I wake to right the wrong,
Though weary, wounded, dispossessed.
## 14.
And though my bones may turn to dust,
My spirit soars beyond the crown—
The dawn may break, but I endure,
Till justice lights each waiting town.
Copyright © Saeed Koushan | Year Posted 2025
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Saeed Koushan Poem
A Meditation on Growing Up
[Age 5] — The Sand Kiss
You hated when someone kissed your nose,
I buried you deep where the warm sand grows.
Then stole a kiss beneath the sky,
The waves clapped soft as we said goodbye.
I. [Age 6] — First Light
Your nails chewed down to rosy tips,
Sorting bottle caps with careful grips.
I offered you my father's crown so bright,
You slipped it in your pocket out of sight.
II. [Age 7] — The Promise
Beneath sheets stretched 'tween two old chairs,
Your breath smelled sweet, like summer fairs.
You whispered secrets in the cotton night,
"We promised our hands would never part."
III. [Age 8] — First Mercy
Gravel dug deep into my palm,
You kissed the stones, and stung turned calm.
Salt and copper burned my skin,
Your tender lips made healing begin.
IV. [Age 9] — The Communion
You bit the apple, passed it near,
Your marks of teeth I held so dear.
We rode our bikes at eight each day,
The air was cool, the streets were gray.
When cousins came, I stood my ground,
"I won't see you," I said, safe and sound.
"You might come tomorrow," you softly cried,
I shook my head, my pride held tight.
V. [Age 10] — The Fracture
"He throws things when the bottle's bare,"
You traced the rusted gate with care.
Your voice cracked like the hinges old,
I counted heartbeats, sharp and cold.
VI. [Age 11] — The Shift
Two knocks: your father's footsteps near,
Three knocks: the coast was safe to steer.
But when they cornered me at school,
You looked, then vanished, silent, cool.
VII. [Age 12] — The Breaking
Your mother combed your hair with care,
Pressed close beneath the Sunday air.
"They say boys like us should never—"
Your eyes went dark; mine caught the fever.
VIII. [Age 13] — The Aftermath
I passed your house at every dawn,
Counting steps since you were gone.
Forty-seven to the old front tree,
Where you yawned beneath the sky, carefree.
The truck arrived that Thursday morn,
Your mother waved; my heart was torn.
Inside the tree, a note I read:
"Some friendships aren't worth what's said."
Coda — Forty Years Later
Sometimes I wake to phantom knocks—
Two, then three, then silence blocks.
I hold the crown, the rusted cap,
And taste the day I closed the gap.
If I could ride those streets once more,
I'd stand where we once said goodbye,
Tell you how a boy's cruel pride
Can kill the love he keeps inside.
Some hungers taste the love we lost.
Copyright © Saeed Koushan | Year Posted 2025
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Saeed Koushan Poem
The morning comes with brittle chill,
Where once her garden used to spill.
My mother’s hands lie still and cold—
The earth keeps secrets never told.
She woke before the dawn’s first light,
To catch the sun in palms held tight.
Now morning finds her gone from view,
And silence hums where psalms once grew.
The sparrows fled her apple trees,
Their songs now scattered on the breeze.
The roses bow their thorned crowns low—
They know the summer’s ebb and flow.
I walk alone her beaten trail,
My footsteps whisper through the vale.
The house still holds her every move—
Her coffee cup breathes morning’s soothe.
Her voice still lingers in the rain,
Her laughter dances through the grain.
The brass thimble by her chair
Holds stories woven with her care.
At twilight’s hush when autumn calls,
I light a candle in her halls.
The flame wavers like her breath,
And fills the room with gentle depth.
She called me once “my little seed,”
When storms would shake my tender creed.
Now standing in that silent place,
I feel her arms, I break, embrace.
Death took her body, spared her voice—
She lives in every whispered choice.
The strength she planted deep in me
Now guides me through life’s stormy sea.
Though sorrow steals my steady breath,
And tears may blur the world I left,
I carry forth the love she grew—
Its stubborn light will see me through.
When spring returns with silver mist,
Her lessons wake within the tryst—
The hands that shaped both hope and me
Will bloom anew in all I be.
Copyright © Saeed Koushan | Year Posted 2025
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Saeed Koushan Poem
All night I sit beside the cup
You left half-empty, growing cold—
The jasmine scent still climbs and wraps
Around the tea we once held gold.
My fingers trace your ghosted ring
On wood where breath once left its trace.
This fading circle won’t undo—
You vanished into summer’s face.
I press your sweater to my cheek
And breathe the orange blossom air
That lingered in your soft embrace—
Now folded like a whispered prayer.
The radiator hums your breath,
A rhythm steady, soft, and low.
My pulse recalls the evening’s pull,
That tide that drags me close to woe.
Outside, the city wakes in light
While I unlearn your weight each day—
Each dawn a vow I fail to keep,
Each dusk a promise swept away.
What madness keeps me counting stairs
You climbed once just to reach my door?
I’ve memorized how silence drapes—
That dress I ripped and wore before.
But here’s the crack within my guard:
Love never dies—it leaves its trace,
Like fingerprints on window glass—
Invisible in morning’s grace.
Tonight I let the jasmine fade—
This house keeps all we dared create.
I’ll wash the sheets where memory clings,
And learn to live with rain’s soft weight.
The morning spills across my floor,
Where shadows hold your shape in place.
Some ghosts remain forevermore,
Some cracks become our saving grace.
Copyright © Saeed Koushan | Year Posted 2025
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