Girl

Girl

Was a boy in the heart of the night, tired of the cold world
Hearts to a girl with a soft look and pain

She had a look because singing on the nights of the blur
Sugar lip, her eyes, chest full of snake bite

Kisses became bridge, between laughter and her charm
Warm arms, more poisonous than his blood

Every night like the flame burned in his arms
But he did not know that fire was not the result of pain

The girl took her off her silent pleasure
Her chest on her chest.

Every point of promise, every kiss of pain
Until the boy, he became a semi -groan between the flame and the Sherr

Suddenly he went and the boy would only stay in those nights
With a torn heart, a fever, and the eyes he read:

Love means, a bloody chest and an empty embrace
Lipstick on a nightless, unnecessary night ...

Years passed and the fire sat under the ashes
Sudden

The girl came back, with a laugh like New Testament
He said: Open your heart, make us a palace from him

A boy with a broken heart, tired, but lover
Opening his arms, in an unanswered sunshine

A few nights, the palate hidden the girl
The soul was out of the faith as the ax.

Bone and bone, our man became a breathless
The girl, without saying, "I went to the cage

Subscriber and the boy, stayed in pain, and the pain
In his eyes, yesterday's laughter like a razor to round

He said: It was certain of his arms, his lip to John
I wish you realized love, there was no game from the bone ...


Girl like a flower of half -laughter
With a deceptive look and kisses

Whatever he did, he was of cravings, not a burning of the heart
Lake the boy saw it, because prayerless prayer

You were killing her with a cute, because the fish is trapped
He would occasionally beat him at dinner

He was in that chest, his lip of sugar
Lick in the heart, except cravings, not love, not bad

He grabbed the boy's hand and shed
He was chest to chest, sometimes in the dawn

He kisses and laughs, he said, "All me!"
Lake went tomorrow and did not come back like that

Neither a message, not a look, no regret, no shame
Went and remained and regrets, tired, sick and

Anyone who saw him said, "This is no longer a man
Is a poet but to his blood, he was legendary

Sometimes at night, in his imagination, a kiss would come
At that moment, his laughter shakes him

Kiss like a prey on the wound and went
Throw a lover's soul into the fire and fall


The girl never tasted the taste of love
In his eyes, it was neither tears, no splendor of restlessness

She smiled and cute, she was a player of roles
Abducted the hearts, without wanting to be his own

Did not know love but knew his language
Cute and deceitful, killing the hearts

His kisses were tail playing with John and Dell
His hands, soft livestock in this deadly flower role

Anyone who fell into his trap came as the slave
Neither lover, no friend, no companion, who is played

The innocent of the Prophet, but he doesn't.
The only pleasure of the game is just the pleasure of hunting

After the palate, it goes without
Because the cold breeze, no other

#behnammohtarami #

The overwhelming love of love

The overwhelming love of love

It is said that at a time, a lover of the glorious, in the wake of a lover who had no name, but salinity in his life that sleeps.

Whoever saw, he said, "The way you go, it comes to the door, not the joiner."

And he said, "If I die in this way, to live in love."

A lover, stepped in a valley that was called love;

Where the lovers were heading on the ground, and their hearts.

He also, too

The color and the hypocrisy leaned and the lips opened off.

Every night, he slaughtered his heart and was passionate about the fire.

Cut the intellect, and as Mansour, Nahaqi shouted.

The people were stoned, but he had a smile, because the inner fire was more flame out of the stone.

It took a long time to lose it.

In the mirror of the heart, he saw except the light of the beloved.

And because he is revised, he did not see himself.

Neda's heart came to:

You are me, I, there is no difference between us.

You were like fuel, you left.

You became a mortal, you were eternal with me.

So he knew that the lover and the lover were in fact one.

The drop that was afraid of the seabed became the seal itself.

The light you was looking for in the sun, the sun itself.

Since then, neither I stayed nor he

Rather, it was only love, anonymous, unclean, unnecessary and unnecessary.

And said.

I was not that

And now I'm unpopular.

I, my beloved ... and the beloved, me.

#behnammohtarami#

Desire

Desire

Any tail that was heartbroken with
Her secretary was met

If it is warm Janet of the touch of the hand
And hugging, became a heartfelt.

If the kiss was the fire of love
Neither play, not deceit, not deceit and smoke

Thus, the pound, came from God
That is the fire, but it has come

If his eyes took your skirt
Not from the dirt, but from the sky

Take a pure hug
Not with hidden shame, not in dust

To the warmth of the tone, your heart was warm
Not of the skin, of the brain and of understanding

Fellow
The same moment is to the sunshine

But if your eyes are full of lust
And every kiss is empty of mercy

And if the warm -up only tone
Not that seal, nor that life, the body

Craving early in time.
Not staying of her love, no seal, no John

That that love, which comes from the heart of God
To every skin and hidden, the sound comes

Do not be aware of thirst, lick
That in the palate is no except oh and khash


#behnammohtarami #

Love

Love

At that moment you were hugged

The House of Station

If the warmth of the tone penetrated into

Tone out of the shade, took to the sun

If your skin tremors had a secret

And hugs, the line of the book

And that kiss, had no hot of cravings

That burned out of enthusiasm, not from wheezing

If the chest is on the chest.

And the name of God was named

It is romantic and clean.

Neither playing, nor contaminated dust

That every tone was assisted by

Not physically, who was caught

Take the cradle

In that swing, starry

Lipper fashed into the lips innocent

Human beings, but shelter

Craving because it is steam, warm and decay

Love

Craving

That it will be overwhelmed

But love, because it is in your tone

To every moment, your passion is meant

The bodybuilder burn to attend

Not the fault of the body, the mercy and the intelligence

Is the god of that attachment if

That naked down your life, not sleep

#behnammohtarami #

Zurqi in the wind

Zurqi in the wind

The cool morning breeze, like a quiet caress, touched the young pilgrim's face. Closed his eyes and looked at the Najaf's starry sky; A city that was the cradle of science and faith, but under the heavy shadow of politics and injustice. He was Hussein, a young man from the southern wall to Karbala on foot; A journey that was not only a pilgrimage, but also an attempt to find meaning among the riots of the time.

The streets of Najaf were still semi -silent, but the footsteps of the people and their prayers were in the air. Hussein took his steps stronger; He knew this was not easy. He felt that there were storms ahead, storms that are not just wind, but larger and invisible powers.

Every step had a story. The story of the people who lived under the pressure of cruel policies, and the politicians whose children lived in the safest corners of the world Those who were brewing justice, but their shadow weighs over the people.

Hussein had promised himself to bring himself to the shrine of Sayyid al -Shohada, where he could find the answer to the endless questions.
A few kilometers from Najaf, Hussein reached a small village. The heat of the summer was extremely annoying and the dry, cracking ground was sounding under its feet. Was sitting on the side of the way; an old man was sitting; Her eyes were kind but full of sadness. Hussein approached and hello.

The old man responded with a tired but quiet voice:
The distance is, young. Why are you walking so many ways?

Hussein took a deep breath and said.
I come to Imam Hussein's pilgrimage, but more than that, to see the truth that is lost.

The old man smiled and said, "
Truth? These days it is a lies and deceit everywhere. But if you want to see the truth, look across the path.

Hussein raised his head and his eyes fell on a man who, without a foot, pulled his hands on the ground with a slipper in his hands and hard to go to Karbala. Her body was covered with wounds and soil, but her eyes shone the fire.

The old man continued:
He has been going this way for years without having a foot. The love of Hussein kept him like this. The hardness of the roads and the wounds could never break his faith.

Hussein looked at the man and tears gathered in his eyes. This picture was a great lesson for her; The lesson of standing, patience and power of faith against the most difficult difficulties.

At the same moment, the sound of the wind was heard; It was as if he wanted to come to Hussein:
You are too, as you are in the wind; As the storms are severe, you have to continue your path.

The man whose heart was broken
In the middle of the road, Hussein reached a fountain where an old man was sitting next to it and drinking water with a shaky hand. The old man said.
My heart is broken, but I am still alive in the love of Hussein. Every wound I have eaten is reminiscent of my loyalty. The love of Imam Hussein is like a light that shows the way even in the darkest nights.
Hussein asked: How can this love be alive in the heart of all this cruelty and pain?
The old man smiled and said, "When the heart is cut off from the world and is right, no oppression can turn off the light."

The young man who was crying
In the middle of the road, he saw a young man sitting under a tree and crying tears. Hussein asked, "Why are you crying?"
"For my love for Hussein," the young man said. For every drop of blood that is shed in the way of justice. My tears are not of weakness but of the power of love.
Hussein said, "How does this love make you stronger?"
The young man replied: The love of Hussein has turned me into a firm mountain; A mountain that no sharp wind and no storm shakes.

A woman who felt the scent of Hussein in the wind
Hussein saw a woman with a tent and looked at the wind calmly. He approached him and asked, "What do you see?"
The woman said, "I see the aroma of Hussein who is in the wind." This fragrance is reminiscent of testimony and love; A love that never dies.
Hussein wondered: How to see the fragrance?
The woman smiled and said, "When the heart is true, everything can be felt, even the fragrance of love."

Reaching to Karbala

The sun was slowly approaching the horizon, and the sky embraced red and gold. Hussein, tired and full of hope, took his last steps to Karbala. The sound of the bells of pilgrims, prayers and whispering to Hussein filled the atmosphere of the shrine.

When he stepped into sacred privacy, it was as if all the heavy way was removed from his shoulder. The voice of the prayers and the whisper of the people caught him. Hussein approached Zari, he put his hands on it, and shouted:
O Hussein, O Hope of Broken Hearts, I have come with a heart full of love and heart tired of the world. You are the lights for us in the dark, I read you.

His tears flowed; Not only because of the hardships of the road, but for the deep understanding of sacrifice, justice and spirituality. It was here to find out that his journey was not just a way of pilgrimage; Rather, it was a journey inside, a journey to truth and freedom.

At that moment, the sound of the wind blows down, as if he brought the message of the sky:
O pilgrims, you are a bully in the huge winds of this world. But these winds will not distract you from your way. Your standing and love is a way for all those who are lost in the storms.

Hussein sat on his knees, looked at the sky and intended to save Imam Hussein's message from forgetfulness in his life; The message of justice, love, and resistance to cruelty.

#behnammohtarami#

Clown that became pŕesident

Clown that became president

Jewish Zelansky, a popular comedian with a women's dress and a colorful appearance, was just fun; The people who laughed at him never imagined this simple man could one day take the fate of a country. But the bitter days of politics, the hands behind the scenes and the power games brought Zelksky to the presidential palace.

In a country where its natural resources ranged from black gold to rare gases, the eyes of world powers were looking for an obedient and controlled bead. Zelnsky, with its different and seemingly unobtrusive features, became the best option for this role.

The hidden support from the great powers, the backing of large arms contracts and billions of promises to weapons companies led to a proxy war in the country. The country that had become a battlefield became more and more and more of the perpetrator of foreign powers and internal betrayals.

In the middle of this chaos, people were tired and helpless; Not only were they direct victims of the war, but they also saw how their national wealth was looted and fell into the hands of foreigners. The President's promises had now become a nightmare that could not be seen.

Jewish Zelansky, when he entered the Presidential Palace, was not just a clown but also in a big game in the closed rooms. Behind the closed doors, world powers had brought together the largest gun companies to maximize their share of the war market. These companies, with great promises to Zelnski and his team, provided advanced financing and weapons to continue the war in the country.

The program designed was very accurate:

The division of the strategic areas of the country between the military groups affiliated with these powers, each controlled key natural resources such as oil, gas and mines.

Weapons of proxy groups subtle, so the war became more intense and complex every day.

The creation of a war economy that increased the country's dependence on imports and military equipment from foreign companies.

While Zelnski was remembered as a modern and open president at the international level, people were suffering in poverty in the depths of the country. Many families lost their homes and lost their youth at the forefront of the war. The hospitals were full of injured and economic infrastructure was completely destroyed.

The statistics were terrible:

More than tens of thousands of people were killed and millions of displaced.

Swelling and lack of food and medicine.

Falling domestic production and increasing unemployment to unprecedented records.

But Zelnsky, behind the walls of the palace, was still laughing in his plays and made new promises, promises that never came true and were more like deceit and deceit.

Months and years have passed since the presidency of Zelnski, the initial smiles that people had to see, expanded into deep dissatisfaction and quiet but angry. People have gradually realized that the fate of their country has become a play in the hands of foreign powers.

In the streets, small and scattered gatherings began. First, a number of youth and social activists on social media raised their voices; But the atmosphere of repression and security threats did not allow these major and coherent protests. Every time a rally was formed, the security forces responded violently and extensive arrests were carried out.

But under the skin of the community, dissatisfaction was slowly erupted as a volcanic. People tired of war, poverty and corruption were looking for a door for hope. Families who lost their loved ones in the war were no longer tolerated.

Big and small cities saw an increase in unemployment and a sharp decline in quality of life one after the other. Schools and hospitals were almost closed due to lack of funding and facilities. Independent media were closed one after the other, and the free voice was hard to hear.

In these circumstances, opposition groups were formed; Some of them were armed and others in the form of civil organizations trying to bring people's voices to the world. These groups also had the support of some foreign countries, but they themselves were caught in a swamp of betrayal and conflicting interests.

Jewish Zelansky, despite all these crises, still appeared in the media and, with absurd jokes and slogans, tried to preserve the image of a powerful and beloved leader. But this image had become more and more of a hollow shell that had no meaning for people who experienced the hardships of life daily.

Behind the scenes of official policies and public media, the world's great powers in the closed chambers had reached agreements that led to the fate of the region and even the world. These agreements were formed not on the basis of the real interests of the people, but to preserve and expand their strategic influence and interests.

Russia, which faced security challenges and economic pressures, sought to create a defensive shield. A plan in which a number of all the allies and its influence act as a geographical barrier; Countries that somehow are in line with Russia and resist Western influence.

On the other hand, Europe, especially the EU and NATO member states, sought to create a embankment against Russia. The embankment, with widespread financial and military support, was formed on the basis of Ukraine; A country that was geographically and historically a key point in the game.

And in the meantime, the United States was directly and indirectly present in this equation with the aim of protecting and developing its civil and economic interests. With the support of Europe and providing military and financial resources, the United States sought to expand its weapons market and increase its political influence in the region.

These three great powers each followed their interests and made agreements behind the scenes:

Russia was allowed to maintain its area of influence in neighboring countries,

Europe could build a powerful defense front through Ukraine

And the United States will strengthen its economic and strategic status by providing weapons and financial support.

But these agreements were never in the interest of the people of the region. On the contrary, countries like Ukraine became the battlefield; Where the interests of the great powers shared the lives of millions of ordinary people and poverty, instability and violence became the natural parts of everyday life.

Jewish Zeansky and his government, as part of the game, were merely a bead guided by world powers, without having real control over their country. Great weapons contracts, increased tensions and proxy wars were all signs of these larger plans.

Jewish Zelansky, who once was only one entertaining clown, had now become a key player in the dangerous game that had left his country's fate. Lack of deep political experience and perspective, he easily surrendered to the pressures of world powers and played his role in the implementation of the backdrop.

One of the most important Jewish Zeansky decisions was the acceptance and facilitation of Ukraine's entry into European influence and the establishment of a missile shield into the country. The move was apparently an attempt to protect national security and benefit from international support, but in fact, it was a confirmation of the offensive policies that Russia saw as a direct threat.

If Jewish Zelansky and his government had chosen an independent path instead of these policies and refused to enter the great games of power, you might not have destroyed such a country today. Russia also did not see the need to attack Ukraine following less strategic threats, and the region was in peace.

But Jewish Zelansky, by implementing these policies and facilitating the influence of Europe and the United States, played a key role in turning the country into the front line; The confrontation that was increasingly pressuring people's lives every day and plundering national wealth.

After years of war and bloodshed, when the most tired nations were crushed under the burden of suffering and destruction, the plans of the world powers came to a new stage. Several regions and small countries across the Russian border, with direct and indirect support for Moscow, declared independence and quickly joined the Russian influence. These separations not only changed geographical boundaries, but also transformed the region's political and security balance.

Crimea, which has been the site of the conflict and a symbol of the East and West for years, has officially returned to Russian territory. The move, which began many years ago, was now recognized as part of the final agreement.

با این تحولات، جنگ به شکلی موقت پایان یافت؛ A fragile fire that most of all reflected the failure of people's aspirations and the calculations of the great powers. Countries that were once full of hope and ideal were now becoming big games; A game in which the lives and lives of millions of people were the only small part in the hands of foreign politicians and powers.

Jewish Jeansky, the popular clown, which once symbolized change and hope, was now referred to as a leader in history how he opened the way for the influence and dominance of great powers; A story that is a lesson for all generations.

After all those wars and suffering, most of all was the endless game of world powers. Zelnsky and his country were the only small bead in a complex equation designed many years ago in closed rooms.

The great powers of the world, by creating and strengthening the two main parties of liberalism and communism, had drawn a plan to always be involved in war and strife. These two contrasting ideologies were not only a means of political control, but also a tool to maintain permanent crises and to divide resources.

In this game, no country was relaxed and people were always victims of profit and ambition. The proxy wars, the big weapons contracts, and the blood that were shed, were all part of this endless cycle.

Countries that once went to history with great aspirations have now become a field for endless conflicts; Where their natural resources were looted and their future was in the hands of the great powers.

Zelksky, that simple clown, maybe someday a symbol of change and hope, but today it was a bitter story: an anecdote of a cycle in which war and hatred were the tools of wealth and mastery, and there was no end to it.

And finally, the great lesson is for all nations and people who wish peace, progress and freedom:

We should not be fooled by the East and West games, liberalism and communism, and the deceptive promises of the great powers.

Politicians whose children live in foreign countries should not be allowed to take over the leadership and destiny of the country. Such people never prioritize people's real interests; Rather, they serve their external powers and their personal interests.

The only way to salvation is real independence, national vigilance, and the choice of leaders who are rooted in their soil and people, those whose hearts are for their country and are willing to fight for a better future.

Nations must learn that history is not repeated and the actors behind the scenes; And most of all, keep themselves powerful, united and awake so that no one can use them as a bead in bloody power games.

#behnammohtarami #

My stical for 1 and 2 august

Mystical for 1 and 2 August:

On the night of the heart, three o'clock and seventeen,
The moon was completed, such as Fatima's life,
In the sky full of light, occurred,
That the throne shook from the flagship of Muhammad.

In the eyes of the night is the secret of lovers,
۱۴ Zero, because the heart of the covenant loves.
The time of standing, a moment to mention,
Until the full moon enters the Shiite earth.

A pure heart, among the storm of time,
Step by step with the Imam of time, how far?
The morning, in three, seventeen minutes,
The spirit of the universe in the spirit of the Mahdi, what is constantly wishing.

In the moonlight night, this is the galaxy of ours,
There is no place in our hearts except for the love of the Ahlul -Bayt.
Look, at the dawn of special day,
How God reveals the truth.

#behnammohtarami#
On August 17th, coinciding with 2 zero and complete month to five hours and seventeen minutes.

Maryam shahbaz

Maryam Shahbaz, such as Punjab Flower
In the heart of the night, such as shoots
Your eyes, seas of peace
Takes the heart to the storm with every look

Zalf
Your hands, whose touch makes my heart full of memory
In the heart of the Punjab plain, I read your name
Every moment remember you, like the wind in my heart

#behnammohtarami#

Shine

You shine like the scorching sun,

Bright and captivating, in a world of dust.

Your beautiful mole, a secret so true,

Whispers a thousand words, silently to you.

Your eyes, they mix day and night,

Your smile, like a flower dancing in light.

I worship you, like the sun in my heart,

My beauty, queen of a broken heart.

# behnammohtarami#

A full_fiedged poet

A full -fledged poet

I saw a girl in the alley ... Beautiful!
High Leave… Tutorial ... Tight Eye

It was a carpet, like the Honda car
It took our hearts ... with that cute

I said:
Madam!
You cute
My heart ... you bite with that look!

Said.
Baby ...
If a man, come forward!
Full pocket ... Oily tongue ... Excavation, come ...

We went to you who went, a little one
Under the quilt ... Kurdish cmped!

Loved, the heart of the poet ...
I endured the arch, the veil and the hijab!

Tomorrow came…
With a laughing laugh:
Poetry! You're daddy!
Yala, turn around!

I stayed ... what to say in that space
I knocked on the head, I said.
Wow the soil!

I was wrong!
I came to seek poetry…
Not to come ... for diapers, milk and sugar!

#behnammohtarami #

The poet was wrong

The poet was wrong


Was the alley and a girl with cute and gesture
He was a crotch and a crush was over!

I said: Who is this cute and love?
He said, "For he is not afraid, the man lived!"

The heart I gave, laughing, blinking
He said, "Fill the pocket and make a pocket!"

With his eyes the wisdom of the head
The brick was stained and the heart of Dopinga!

He went and crawled with a crap
The poet was overwhelmed by the force of evil!

Fell on the quilt
The poet from the poem, scheduled!

Tomorrow morning said, baby, a news
We became the owner of a moon!

Poor poet
He said, "Woe to me, O God!

Cried and said with sigh and pressure:
I didn't come here for the time!

I was wrong, I was wrong, shelter!
I was just poetry, innocent!

#behnammohtarami #

The poet became miserable

The poet became miserable


A girl I saw the alley, beautiful
High feet, tight eyes, tight eyes

It was a carpet like Honda's car
He took our hearts with that cute

I said: Madam, you are cute
My heart bite with that look

Said, baby, if a man, come forward
Full pocket, greasy tongue, coming out of excuse

We went to her, one night
Under the quilt, Kurdish

Loved, the heart of the full -fledged poet
I was overwhelming

The day came, with a laughing laughter
He said: The poet! Daddy, yelling out.

I have to say what to say in that space
I knocked on the head, I said, "Wow the soil!"

I was wrong, I came to follow the poem
Not to come for diapers, milk and sugar!

A simple technical mistake that opened the way to run away

News Narrative | A simple technical mistake that opened the way to run away

TEHRAN - Correspondent of Peshawan Newspaper

Following the assassination of Martyr Mohsen Fakhrinejad on the Absard Road of Damavand, the Ministry of Intelligence of the Islamic Republic of Iran has revealed details that in turn are questionable and contemplative.

This terrorist operation, one of the most sophisticated and planned Mossad actions on Iranian soil, ended with the early departure of the perpetrators; A matter that the Minister of Intelligence at the time mentioned in the statements. He stated:

"Wherever we went, they had left one hour ahead; "The Mossad Operations Team had left the country before our troops arrived."

But what has now been revealed after months of technical review has been a simple but vital mistake in analyzing surveillance camera data. According to informed sources, the clock of cameras recording systems used by the Ministry of Intelligence to review the scene and escape route was based on a government resolution to change the country's official watch (early April and the end of September), but these changes were not updated. As a result, the information analysis team examined the data based on the wrong time, and as a result, the actual path of escape and the time of Mossad agents left the country has not been properly identified.

Some security experts see this mistake as a result of systematic negligence in equipment update and lack of accurate technical supervision; A mistake that may seem small in appearance, but at the expense of the free crossing of terrorists across the country's borders.

And it was as if the IKIOs engaged in the Ministry of Intelligence's analyst, ignoring the summer clock, just behind Mossad; A backwardness that played not only the life of a scientist, but also the reputation of a device. In the intelligence circles of Iran, it is now made of jokes instead of analysis:

The Ministry of Intelligence, which did not adjust the clock, but wanted to control the time.

Loving a lover

Loving (from the poem of Behnam mohtarami):
Come at least to be dismissed
I was prisoner
Come out of this cage
Cho Want to meet you.
I was annoying.
Excuse me baby. I apologized.
That I searched for you.

A lover (mystical response):
I nurtured you in the backyard of John
I tried you with the fire.
Do not lock if unlocked
That I am closer, if you

Not to my bond, your own package
Between my mirror you are u
Found me in the burning heart.
Self -passing, if you meet

I said but you didn't see yourself
Drew it all. But I reached
If you turn off at Temna
You call me in the depths of meaning

#behnammohtarami#

Carb

Carb

In the name of a plan of murder
Fell into the streets

Someone whose city is the firefighter
Hunted between blood and wind

The one whose name came from 'Taha'
But his lips were closed.

What was his city called? Karb Taha
But

In that land
Dagger

Neither the way left nor someone with him
Except his own shadow, to work

Neither the alley nor the helper
Failure, but with pride and dignity

Hesitant
That poured on dirt like flowers,

And that the cultivation came in the name of justice
But the lie made the law hot

Where is Taha? His voice off
Where is the light? Between this arms

And the city stayed, with its shameful crown
In the name of ugly: Taha hunters ...

#behnammohtarami#

The city of boziineh

The city of Bozineh

We reached a city of immense and shameful
That in the eyes of the people, the truth became a crime

Their tongues poisoned, their eyes are shot
Their hearts and rocks, on their lips old

Bonzine
Consumer and slander, to become God!

To Al -Ali, sarcasm
Have no swords, no conscience, nor man

One said, "Taha? Where is that messenger?
If his way is right, why did he be murder? "

One laughed and sat down to the spear
And said of the verse, but with failure

His tongue full of long -standing hatred
His heartfelt hearts, far from Taha

He called one: This city, unbiased
Hunts anyone who is from God

The city was neither the city, nor the place of prayer
It had been masked, muddy, long

Monkey to the pulpit, lie in Azan
Taha in the chains, Aliless

Neither dirt, nor mountain, nor a tribe, no companion
Only spears, sun and dust

And here it was the same: the hunting house
That prostrate failure, to spears and sadness ...

#behnammohtarami#

Sutki of my soil

Sutki of my soil

I want…
When there is no other breath in my chest
Me not in the stone, nor in the colds
That in the shadow of an old tree,
Soak on a tall hill.

Where the wind blows
And the sky, every night,
Have a star for my lonely conversation.

Let my body be dirty
And become the root of the tree
Whose leaves,
Sheet my memories in the wind.

And from my soil,
Make a simple sword
That every passer -by
It looked at it
And the sound of my lonely
Wrap the streets ...

Neither a whisper nor scream
That is the silent song of Delie
That was very much liked,
And he remained very alone ...

If someone asks one day:
Where is this sound?
Say:
It is a man from the soil
Who did not want to die in the cage
And his life with nature
Part was part.

#behnammohtarami#

Donkey

As long as the donkey
Who is riding is not aware of the shopping

As long as he kissed
One hundred riders passed on his head

Said the donkey: I will last the last time
I kick my curse to everyone

To do not make your own. Who are you
Whomever he wants, ride you


As long as the donkey, hot market
Freedom but in shame

Whoever laughs and lies a good lie
On the heart of the donkey earlier than the right to penetrate

Flame
The law of the referee's language

Donkey
Became hostage number, inmate of the road

One came, the light messenger of light
He said, "Why your sleep so heavy and blind?"

He said the donkey: O wise man, silent!
They have a map of these riders, comfort!

He didn't know that on his shoulder
No one is light, not from spring

Bell is a cruel
With a mask of ineffective words

Up to the donkey, the law of the riders
So that he does not ask himself: Who is God?


#behnammohtarami#

The heart of the pain is restless

The heart of the pain is restless
The look of this is the wound of this work

You smiled at this famine
Promised to see my life
Chu I wanted to meet you
Disturbed at all times.

Excuse John, if I was sparked open
If I was looking for that covenant
I don't want to hurt your head.
Just make my heart cute sometimes

That I was looking for your mood
Between the moments of your happy
Come, take the heart to the smile
Me of the pain of loneliness for

#behnammohtarami#

نخی که از قم رد شد

نخی که از قم رد شد

در شب‌های خاموش دهه‌ی ۱۳۰۰، در دل تهران، صدای گام‌های سنگین تاریخ آرام‌آرام بر سنگ‌فرش سلطنت پهلوی پیچید. رضاخان که حالا شاه بود، می‌دانست برای بقای تاج و تختش، باید هم زمان با شمشیر، از قلم نیز بهره ببرد. در این میان، مردی با عینک گرد و عبایی ساده وارد شد: محمدعلی فروغی. نه سرباز بود، نه عالمِ دین؛ اما عقلش بر نیزه‌ی قدرت سوار شد.

او مأموریتی پیچیده بر دوش داشت: از یک‌سو رضا شاه را به ثباتی فرنگی‌پسند برساند و از سوی دیگر، قمِ شیعه را با تهرانِ سلطنت آشتی دهد. و چه جایی بهتر از قم که هم کانون روحانیت باشد و هم نقطه‌ی اتصال به شبکه‌ای جهانی‌تر: علوی‌ها، آغاخان، و خطوط پنهان بریتانیا.

فروغی، با تدبیری پنهان، نقشه‌ای سه‌گوش را طراحی کرد.

در ضلع نخست مثلث، آغاخان سوم ایستاده بود؛ رهبر اسماعیلیان، دوست فرنگی‌ها، آشنا با دربار و چهره‌ای جهانی. او با علوی‌هایی که از هند و سوریه به ایران می‌آمدند در ارتباط بود. و در ضلع دوم، علوی‌ها که از راه‌های مرزی وارد قم و تهران می‌شدند. برخی‌شان اهل علم، برخی مبلغ، برخی مأمور.

رضاشاه که نگران پیوندهای غیرایرانی این جریان‌ها بود، با بی‌اعتمادی نظاره می‌کرد. اما فروغی لبخند زد و گفت:
«پادشاهی که با کلمه‌ها حکومت نکند، تاجش را روزی واگذار خواهد کرد.»

او تولیت مدرسه‌های علمیه در قم را بر عهده گرفت. نه به نیت نشر دین، که به نیت نظارت. طلبه‌هایی از لبنان، سوریه، حتی کشمیر، وارد حوزه شدند. در ظاهر همه چیز آرام بود. اما اتاقی کوچک در مدرسه فیضیه، محلی برای گفت‌وگوی بی‌صدا میان سه ضلع بود: جاسوس بریتانیایی، عالم هندی، و نماینده‌ای از تهران.

با رفتن رضا شاه و آمدن محمدرضا پهلوی، این مثلث از نو ترسیم شد. این‌بار چهره‌ها تغییر کردند، اما فروغی ـ حالا استاد سیاست نرم ـ هنوز تا لحظه‌ی مرگ نخ‌چینِ بازی بود.

علوی‌ها همچنان در قم می‌چرخیدند. آغاخان دوم با پسرش از دور نظاره می‌کردند، و محمدرضا که بیشتر از پدر اهل بازی فرنگی بود، با یک چشم به لندن می‌نگریست و با چشم دیگر به فیضیه.

قم دیگر فقط شهر علم نبود. شهری شده بود که در آن، مثلثی خاموش اما نافذ، سیاست ایران را شکل می‌داد. و فروغی، با همه‌ی آرامشش، آن نخی بود که دو سر زمان را ـ از رضاشاه تا انقلاب ـ در یک نقطه گره زد: قم.

#بهنام محترمی#

Trump,a sign of an old pattern

Trump, a sign of an old pattern? Non -assassinated assassinations with Mossad and MI6

Political - Security Analysis July 1 / July 1

With the official release of former US President Donald Trump's news of chronic venous failure (CVI), there has been a wave of analysis and doubts about the cause and origin of his illness in the world's media and political space. Some consider this to be solely due to age and stress. But another group, looking at the historical background and biological removal tools in recent decades, believe Mossad and MI6

The troops that did not sound

Mossad and MI6, two intelligence services that have collaborated on numerous joint projects from the Middle East to Latin America, have a long history of physical elimination of leaders, scientists, clergy, and influential figures - not with bullets or bombs, but with gradual poisoning, biological shock, and silent shock.

In cases such as:

Yasser Arafat (radioactive poisoning - 1)

Mahmoud al -Mubahu (assassination with injectable materials in Dubai - 1)
There are similarities that are also consistent with the Trump disease scenario.

Trump, why is it a threat?

In recent months, Trump has taken positions that have actually threatened the security order of the West, especially Israel and the United Kingdom:

Criticism of endless war in Ukraine

A desire to agree with Russia and even Iran

Very high oil contracts without the presence of the UK
• Claims to Canada, which is under the auspices of the UK
.. .Proximity to Mossad agents no matter what Israel is England
. Carrying the British role in the interests of the Middle East
For Tel Aviv, London Trump, who does not allow Israel to fire in the region, is a potential threat to the Greater Israeli project, regional security, and its intelligence ties with the United StatesSymptoms that have appeared in Trump's body - including bruises on the hand, foot swelling, sudden intravenous failure, and excessive fatigue - correspond to the scenarios performed by Mossad in the past. The use of invisible dissolved compounds in DMSO, water or clothing trace poisons, and venous system stimulation has been seen for many years among the Mossad operations classified documents. Has the united intelligence agencies in the West preferred to do so before the end of the presidency, which is always difficult to prove a silent assassination, but what is certain is that Mossad and Mi6 have repeatedly eliminated figures that were purely ideological or nationalist in the past yearsMilitary.

martial
soldier
trooper
Trump, although the president is a superpower, but in the eyes of some structures, it is an unpredictable deviation in the path of world order - and history has shown that such deviations are always in the shadow.

#moht

#Newspaper#Call 1#mohtaramiBehnam

Love

(by Behnam Mohtaramy )

The sounds were music from the heart
And your gaze… a song I believed in
long before I ever heard it.

My heart trembled—
not from fear,
not from doubt,
but from something like
the sudden discovery of love.

You were there—
the moon framed in the window,
a hidden breeze,
and I—
caught in the silence of all I never said.

Words faded.
My heart turned to your eyes,
to the trembling of hands,
to a silence that became poetry between us.

Somewhere between a word and a kiss,
we never said “I love you”
but we heard it—clearly,
without sound.

We left words behind.
Only the embrace remained—
warm, honest, without reason or need.

And in that embrace,
came a soft sound,
a hush, a hum,
like a lullaby
not from the lips
but from the rhythm of the heart.

A calm settled between us—
not from ending,
but from the beginning
of truly knowing one another.

And now…
this simplicity,
this being with you,
is what I live forever to feel.

#behnammohtarami #

Love

Love

(by Behnam Mohtaramy )

The sounds were music from the heart
And your gaze… a song I believed in
long before I ever heard it.

My heart trembled—
not from fear,
not from doubt,
but from something like
the sudden discovery of love.

You were there—
the moon framed in the window,
a hidden breeze,
and I—
caught in the silence of all I never said.

Words faded.
My heart turned to your eyes,
to the trembling of hands,
to a silence that became poetry between us.

Somewhere between a word and a kiss,
we never said “I love you”
but we heard it—clearly,
without sound.

We left words behind.
Only the embrace remained—
warm, honest, without reason or need.

And in that embrace,
came a soft sound,
a hush, a hum,
like a lullaby
not from the lips
but from the rhythm of the heart.

A calm settled between us—
not from ending,
but from the beginning
of truly knowing one another.

And now…
this simplicity,
this being with you,
is what I live forever to feel.

#behnammohtarami #

The secret of Arbella

The Secret of Arbella

Everyone knew her as Arbella Trump; the beautiful granddaughter of the former President of the United States, a girl raised among the pomp of aristocratic palaces and silent bodyguards. From time to time, the media would publish pictures of her: large eyes, olive skin, and dark curly hair—bearing no resemblance to the Scandinavian heritage of her mother, Ivanka. Donald Trump always spoke of her with a forced smile but never brought her much into the public eye.

But there was something no one knew—except Ivanka. A secret that began years ago on a rainy night in Dubai.

On the eve of her sixteenth birthday, Arbella found a letter without a sender in her room. The letter was written in Persian.

My daughter... When you read this, you probably won’t know me anymore. I am your father. A father who was never allowed to be by your side. You are half Iranian; your roots come from a land that still speaks under the moonlight...

Arbella, who had never read Persian, could not understand what was written. But with every word, a strange feeling welled up inside her. That night, she dreamed of a man with a short beard and dark eyes calling her from within the flames.

Ivanka had hidden this secret for years. When she was working on a project in Dubai, she secretly entered Iran. An Iranian man—a silent revolutionary, an architect, a lover—captivated her heart. The result of that love was Arbella.

But to protect her future, and to keep Trump from erasing her name from his will, Ivanka was forced to hide the secret of her Iranian father. At first, Donald wanted to eliminate the child, but when Ivanka threatened to expose his financial documents, he reluctantly agreed to let the child grow up in silence.

As Arbella grew older, the signs of her Iranian father became more apparent. She showed an unusual skill in Eastern languages, a deep feeling for Hafez’s poetry, and dreams of deserts, dome architectures, and the call to prayer echoing from minarets.

On a family trip to Venice, when they visited the old market, an old man recognized her. He whispered:

You are the girl... from the lineage of silent lions.

From that moment on, Arbella decided to discover the truth. She secretly learned Persian. She spent countless nights decoding her father’s letter. She realized her father was still alive—hidden somewhere in the heart of the Zagros Mountains.

Trump, despite his old age, was still trying to erase all traces of his daughter’s past. He had assigned a shadow team of agents to control Arbella’s connection with the outside world. But they did not know that inside her, a fire had been lit—one that would never be extinguished.

To be continued...

#Behnam_Mohtaramy_Story_TheSecretOfArbella_Ivanka#

Muharram

What is this cry that shakes the soul of all the lands?
What storm is this that sweeps across both seas and sands?

What voice is this that echoes down the silent streets?
What moan is this that flows from every wounded beat?

The earth’s own eyes are filled with tears that none can see,
As if the heart of time is bleeding silently.

Each drop of blood ignites the dark with burning flame,
Each rising fire tells the truth, unbound by shame.

From ashes born of pain and endless nights of dread,
The banner of the truth is raised above the dead.

Though tyranny may cloud the skies and dim the day,
Awakened souls will find the path and light the way.

A name that rings through ages, carved beyond all fate,
Not born of dust or time, but forged by Heaven’s gate.

From Eastern dawns the voice of justice still is heard,
A piercing call that breaks the night without a word.

Who stains their hands with blood unjust shall surely find,
A blazing wrath that burns and leaves no peace behind.

We are the flame of truth, not puppets in a game,
Our leader’s voice ignites our hearts with holy flame.

#behnammohtarami #

Alberla

The chicken that captled for another egg

In the distant time, more than the recorded date, in the hearts of the Zagros Mountains, a Jewish old man reads an old petition in a secrecy. In that scroll had come:

There will be a day when the savior of the Persian generation will rise, so it is up to you to look at the gold eggs, and because the mother is nurturing it in your nest; Even if it is not for you.

This was said to be a proverb among the small Jews of Iran:

Our chicken is copy, its egg is not mine!

But it didn't matter, because for centuries they knew that sometimes we had to become a mother for a baby who did not know her father in time.

Since then, in the alleyways of Yazd, Isfahan and Hamedan, women have emerged who covered special children under their tent; Children with dark hair, eyes full of revelation, and their birth certificate had a Hebrew name, but speaking in Persian at night.

The rabbi elders said: "They are predicted from the foregoing, we are only shadow, they are flames.

Years have passed, generations changed, and whenever a child was born with a special badge - the moon -like shoulder, or a halo of light at birth - was said to be a Jewish women.

The story was so weird that many didn't believe it, but in the old houses, there was a box in which the child's original name was kept, beside the Persian petition and the verses of the Isaiah:

From the east, a savior will come ... and the people will come together.

And so, the chickens copy, on the eggs that may not have been, but the hope of the world lies.

Arabla is the daughter of Iranian Ivanko. Iran's daughter in the United States is a trustee.

#behnammohtarami #

Love ,s wrist safa was drawn to the house of zahra

Love's wrist Safa was drawn to the house of Zahra. From the light of Hassan, light shone. As a descendant of that great king of Gohar A martyr emerged, like the dawn sun. His motto is "Shahada of the Path". He came to the field of love, out of love, good. Courage from his grandfather, loyalty from his father. Politeness in his gaze, modesty in his mind. He looked at the desert of blood and said: "Provincialism is like manhood" Heaven showed him through his gaze. What is my hand, what is my life, what is my soil, is sacrificed? If the shadow is on the

Sayyid al-Shahada #behnamemohtarami#e

Clown

Clown

In a distant land, where the velvet curtains of democracy cover a scene, there was a great play every day. In the middle of this scene, there was a clown with yellow hair, a make -up face, and a smile that you never knew or satisfied.

He was the main clown of this circus. Her hands were spinning in the air, her feet trembled, sometimes she danced, sometimes she shouted angry, sometimes for no reason, in friendship with long -standing enemies. The people of the world were laughing. Some are astonishing, some with regret, and some with fear.

But fewer people knew the threads of this clown were in the hand. Behind the scenes, behind the velvet curtains, a group was sitting. Dolls that were drawn with cold and calculated looks. They neither participated in the elections nor appeared in the streets, but they were the final decision makers.

Years ago, in the same land, he was a president with clear eyes and a bold look. "We should not let the weapons that can destroy the world will fall into the hands of anyone, especially those who do not consider any country to be their own, but are involved in everything," he said.

He stood, but he didn't stand much. A bullet at a sunny noon finished.

From that day, the clowns came one by one. Each with a new color and dress, but all in the same group. Some tried to resist, but they made the yarn tighter. One laughed, scared one, silent with promises of gold and oil.

And now, the yellow clown was rotating on stage. Sometimes to the east, sometimes to the west, sometimes with fists, sometimes with kiss. But in his eyes there was something that all had clowns: fear. Fear takes away from the hands behind the curtain, and if necessary, they are removed.

The show continues, people are still laughing. But sometimes someone in the crowd asks:

Who wrote this show?

#behnammohtarami#

From the Nile to the EU ph rates september2022

From the Nile to the Euphrates In September 2022, a curtain was drawn back at the United Nations, and behind it emerged a golden map. Not a map of the present, but of a distant past; a past that the Israeli Prime Minister spoke of with pride: This is the land promised in the Torah. From the Nile to the Euphrates. We are not new conquerors, but ancient heirs. There was a map showing Israel's borders from northern Lebanon to the Sinai Desert, from Baghdad to Amman, from Damascus to Riyadh. An old man in the corner of the room was quietly shedding tears. No one knew his name. But in his eyes was another map—a map of pain. It was not the prime minister who drew the map. Documents showed that it had come from sealed archives, a drawing by Ben-Gurion, Israel's founder, who had said years earlier: Zionism will only be complete when we return to the land God promised. In a small room in Beirut, Youssef, a history professor at American University, stared at a map. His students waited for him to speak. He said: This is not just a map. This is a rewriting of truth. This map turns religious belief into a title deed. A young student asked: But if their religious documents say this, does it also have a historical justification? Joseph paused. Then he said in a quiet voice: The Torah is a holy book, not a plotter. But politics often plays with holy books. In Amman, Riyadh, Damascus, Baghdad and Cairo, the news of the plan was on the front pages. Governments reacted. But the people… People looked in silence, at the walls, at the televisions, at the memories of their fathers. Could it really be that what "belongs to us" could one day be recorded in a book belonging to others? But the map wasn't just a border. The map was a dream. And dreams are sometimes more dangerous than reality. In Tel Aviv, a young girl named Leah was poring over Ben-Gurion's papers at the National Archives of Israel. Her grandfather was one of the early founders of the Zionist army. But unlike before, she was finding something new: In the margin of one of the maps, written in shaky handwriting: If we take the earth from the fire, will we find faith from the ashes? Leah didn't sleep that night until morning. At the end of the story, there was a world staring at a map; a map full of claims, but empty of peace. And a voice echoed in the heart of the night: God may have given the land, but has he also given the hearts? Explanation: This story attempts to portray, from a literary and political perspective, without explicit judgment, a picture of the clash between “religious beliefs” and “geographical claims.” The reference is to September 2022, Ben Gurion, and the Arab countries are real,

#behnammohtarami #

Open letter to world leaderes in defense of the security l

Open letter to world leaders in defense of the security of religious leaders In the name of God, life and wisdom. The President of the United States of America, Prime Minister of the Zionist government Hello. A group of citizens, intellectuals, human rights activists, and those interested in world peace have followed with deep concern and concern some statements and reports that indicate a direct or indirect threat to the life of the highest religious authority of Shia Muslims in Iran. It is obvious that religious leaders, regardless of nationality or religion, are symbols of the identity, spirituality, and stability of their communitiesAny harm to them would not only be an irreparable blow to millions of believers, but could also ignite the fires of violence, instability, and hatred on a regional and even global level—consequences that would haunt humanity for decades, perhaps centuries. Just as threats against the Pope, the Dalai Lama, or high-ranking officials of Al-Azhar are reprehensible and unacceptable, threats or targeting of the Shia Muslim religious leader must also be firmly rejected and condemned internationally. We expect you to: 1. Strongly condemn any threats against religious leaders. 2. Adhere to the principles of human dignity and freedom of belief. 3. Prevent religious conflicts and incitement of religious sentiments. 4. Reassure nations that the place of dialogue, coexistence, and understanding will never be filled with terror, threats, or elimination. Know that history will not forget silence or complicity with such threats, and what may be considered "geopolitical gain" today will end up harming world security and the peace of nations tomorrow. Wishing for peace, mutual respect, and deep understanding between religions and nations.

#behnammohtarami #