Booye Khoobe Gandoom - Dariush перевод на английский

Booye Khoobe Gandoom

بوی خوب گندم
بوی گندم مال من هر چی که دارم مال تو
یه وجب خاک مال من هرچی میکارم مال تو
اهل طاعونی این قبیله مشرقیم
تویی این مسافر شیشه ای شهر فرنگ
پوستم از جنس شبه پوست تو از مخمل سرخ
رختم از تاوله تنپوش تو از پوست پلنگ
بوی گندم مال من هر چی که دارم مال تو
یه وجب خاک مال من هرچی میکارم مال تو
تو به فکر جنگل آهن وآسمون خراش
من به فکر یه اتاق اندازه تو واسه خواب
تن من خاک منه ساقهء گندم تن تو
تن ما تشنه ترین تشنهء یک قطره آب
بوی گندم مال من هر چی که دارم مال تو
یه وجب خاک مال من هرچی میکارم مال تو
شهر تو شهر فرنگ آدماش ترمه قبا
شهر من شهر دعا همه گنبداش طلا
تن تو مثل تبر تن من ریشهء سخت
طپش عکس یه قلب مونده اما رو درخت
بوی گندم مال من هر چی که دارم مال تو
یه وجب خاک مال من هرچی میکارم مال تو
نباید مرثیه گو باشم واسه خاک تنم
تو آخه مسافری خون رگ اینجا منم
تن من دوست نداره زخمی دست تو بشه
حالا با هر کی که هست هرکی که نیست داد میزنم
بوی گندم مال من هر چی که دارم مال من
یه وجب خاک مال من هرچی میکارم مال من

Booye Khoobe Gandoom

The Sweet Scent of Wheat
The scent of wheat belongs to me and all that I have is yours
A span of land is mine and all that I sow is yours
A tribesman from the East, a bearer of plagues
You are a traveler of glass buildings, from the city of the West
My skin is like leather, your skin is soft like velvet
My clothing is made of coarse cloth, your dress is made of leopard skin
The scent of wheat belongs to me and all that I have is yours
A span of land is mine and all that I sow is yours
You dream of cities of iron, of skyscrapers reaching high
I dream of a room the size of you, for sleep
My body is the soil, the stalk of wheat is your body
Our bodies are the thirstiest, thirsting for a drop of water
The scent of wheat belongs to me and all that I have is yours
A span of land is mine and all that I sow is yours
Your city is a city of the West, its people wear fine silk robes
My city is a city of prayer, its domes are adorned with gold
Your body is like an axe, my body is as a strong root
The beating of a heart remains, upon the tree
The scent of wheat belongs to me and all that I have is yours
A span of land is mine and all that I sow is yours
I should not mourn for the soil of my body
For you are only a traveler, the blood that runs here is mine
My body wishes that your hand never be wounded
Now, to all who are here and to those who are not, I cry out
The scent of wheat belongs to me, all that I have is mine
A span of land is mine, all that I sow is mine