Forough knew the language of love, a woman with a great soul, Every morning, Poetry blossomed within her.
She was as turbulent as a river, Her heart filled with red fish. She painted her dreams And turned them into films of life. Yet no one Ever stopped to watch her. Her beliefs Did not find a place in the ears of time, And every day, like Eve, She was cast out of the paradise of life. She tried to illuminate The world of women With the lamp of enlightenment. And Forough, With boldness, Picked the forbidden apple of love And gifted it to others. She proved That love cannot be hidden, Even if it is forbidden. She was full of motherly feelings, Yet she never embraced her child! And Forough’s life remained without light, For her time could not bear to hear the truth. The truth of Forough was what she said in her poem: «My wounds are all from love, From love, love, love. »
Forough - The Iranian Poet Woman
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