where did you hurry so quietly, take the bow, the tooth of the arrow is quiet , don't listen to harmela's words, don't go back, make you calm in the quran . well done, very good, very good until today's karbala, oh from gaza, oh from gaza, the children who were uprooted, the children whose bodies were burned, the hungry children and thirsty after their mother's moon pill, the taste of these poetics has been tasted in the hearts of the children, so much so that they too have become poets. when you grow up, whatever you do, my mother's poetry is the same as persian literature, and for example, if you know that tehran is strong at home , do you like poetry? it is like the mourning night of fatima. be in love with her. put your tent on your head. it is a memory of fatima . the father of the house also has a place in mama arefa 's poems. i am tired when even a single strand of my hair from the top of my head is calm with my hands. cover it up, you have a beard with its roots, both your appearance and your interior are pure, you have made me one with you his gradual and long love says that the