O fata a trimis inregistrarea unei poezii acompaniata de strigatele zecilor de mii care cer, in fiecare seara, anularea alegerilor din Iran. Nu stiu exact ce se-ntampla in Iran. Nu am mari sperante de bine, pana si Mousavi a ascultat linistit mustrarile ayatolahului. Dar poezia asta m-a impresionat. In balconul in care fiecare julieta ar trebui sa primeasca poezii se recita versuri politice. Nasol.
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friday 29 kordad 1388.tomorow is saterday
Tonight the sound of God is Greater can be heard louder and louder than previous nights
Where is this?! Where is this place where everything has been blocked?
Where is this place where people are just shouting the name of God?
Where is this place where the sound of God is Greater can be heard louder and louder?
Everyday Im just waiting to see if there will be more and louder voices at nights?
My body trembles
…and I wonder if God trembles too?
Where is this where weve been imprisoned so innocently?
Where is this where no one gives us a helping hand?!
Where is this place, where we are getting our voices heard worldwide through our silence?
Where is this place where the blood of its young people is shed on the streets…, where people stand and pray on their blood?
Where is this place where its people are named Gangsters & Thugs?!
Where is this?
This is Iran. This is my land and yours!
This is Iran