Shahin Najafi - Salam (Music Video)

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سپاس! با دوستان خود به اشتراك بگذاريد!

شما اين ويدئو را نپسنديديد! از بازخوردتان سپاسگزاريم

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Lyrics: Shahin Najafi
Music: Majid Kazemi
Video: Shahin Najafi
Special Thanks to: Shahryar Ahadi, Ali Maleki, Shahram Azimi, Mehran Jangali Moghadam, Ali Baghban, Michael Krol, Johan, Herand, Sole Mio, Ariana, Zari and Gita

موزیک ویدئو سلام
شعر: شاهین نجفی
موسیقی: مجید کاظمی
ویدیو: شاهین نجفی

Salam (Hello)

Say hello for me to my mother’s grave
I had promised to buy her a house, pity
My hello

Say hello for me to her like a prayer
tell her life is hell, you’re good in paradise

Tell her to sometimes ask about the state of us the living
tell her to tell our situation if she sees God

Tell her our Azan is timed to people’s loneliness
we are always in Muharram and our celebration is mourning

Tell her how tired we are from all these oblations
so much we called the sky; where is the answer

Tell her morning and night we’re stoned filled with emptiness
tell her we’re eating hope from hunger

Tell her we've let go; we have no spirit for breath
tell her we’re alive and don’t have as much rights as the dead

Tell her we’re still running like a dog for a mouthful of bread
lumpishly we’re in to each other’s honor and

Drug is light for us we do crack now
we fuck up all our being and non-being

It’s a kind of a state that we get happy with each other’s grief
we fall in love; if she rejects we spray acid

Tell her Ali got life sentence and became permanent
he pays for his wife and kids’ expenses from inside the cell

Tell her Mami died while knife wielding in the line
not even a year passed the Bazar Haji took his wife

Tell her the cheap eulogist is gun wielder
is a friend of Supreme Leader’s household and the light of his eyes

It’s a bit tough to take in when no one is in the right place
your life is the stew and misery is the condiment

The elites are on the run and our good ones are in the cell
we’re in sadness and they smirk at us

Their hands in people’s pocket and their oath to Quran
there is oil money, but it gets spent in Lebanon

I’m the sound of Farhad’s axe
when throat-slit I’m the outcry

I am the fire under the ashes
the storm's embryo in my head

Say hello for me to sixty-seven and Khavaran*
say hello for me to Tehran’s smoke and smog

Say hello for me to the girls in the park; the runaways
to thrash and wound and wail; the acacias
to those without birth certificates; Afghan children
My hello

Say hello for me to the child labourers; stealthy
in Darvazeh Ghar’s dusty fields; stealthy

Say hello for me to eyelid wrinkles and work’s dirt and dad’s hand
formed calluses now

Say hello for me to … and don’t doubt through beating under slap the champion doesn't give in
Say hello for me to Karun that’s not dried out yet unlike Zayanderood, Urmia
it’s a grim era; suffocation is communal

I'm not saying these so that you say you’re hopeless
even if you don’t see one joyous day

It’s only you; you are the one who builds your tomorrow
you’re your own boss you’re a soldier for yourself

*The 1988 (1367 Solar Hijri) mass executions of political prisoners and their grave site Khavaran.
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