Fraser Sutherland a Canadian poet and editor sent his poem about Neda's murder. I sent his poem to a friend of mine and he replied me back: “Let Fraser know that although he is far far away from here but your poem and support will ease our pain of losing brothers and sisters in this fight”.
Here is the poem:
Song of Our Neda
- Neda Agha-Soltan, killed in Tehran 20 June 2009
After the Farsi of Fereshteh Molavi
Go, run, clap, my friends,
You have become the cry
Of a woman named Neda
Who is about to die.
Oh, Neda, don’t look at me,
It is the end you see.
Your head is bare, your hair is free,
Your slim body’s beauty doesn’t hide,
Your face is a crimson flower,
Your lips are closed, your eyes are wide.
Oh, Neda, don’t look at me,
It is the end you see.
Hot asphalt, hard asphalt,
This is the blood-drenched street
In the court of the insane.
Blind sky, deaf sky is where we meet.
Oh, Neda, don’t look at me,
It is the end you see.
Motorbikes, motorbikes, motorbikes
Are the beating of your heart.
Batons, batons, batons
Are the beating of your heart.
Oh, Neda, don’t look at me,
It is the end you see.
Pounding boots, boots, boots,
Are the beating of your heart.
The bark of guns, the bark of guns
Are the beating of your heart.
Oh, Neda, don’t look at me,
It is the end you see.
Take pity on our beaten hearts
That’s now the beating of your heart.
Neda, Neda, Neda,
Oh, Neda, don’t look at me.
Oh, Neda, don’t look at me,
It is the end you see.
Hot asphalt, hard asphalt,
This is the blood-drenched street
In the court of the insane.
Blind sky, deaf sky is where we meet.
Oh, Neda, don’t look at me,
It is the end you see.
Your head is bare, your hair is free,
Your slim body’s beauty doesn’t hide.
Your face is a crimson flower,
Your lips are closed, your eyes are wide.
Oh, Neda, don’t look at me,
It is the end you see.
Go, run, clap, my friends
You have become the cry
That Neda and Iran
Are about to die.
Oh, Neda, don’t look at me,
It is the end you see.
- Fraser Sutherland
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