Photo: Protesters in Tehran on June 17 (copied from Sandmonkey's blog, original source unknown).
After a fake election, Iranian people have taken to the street to protest, to stand for their votes and probably for something much more fundamental. Many have already been murdered by the regime's security forces; still, ther is hope that a change for better will come against all odds.
Below, I am trying to translate a part of The Blind Shephards' Herd, by Valeri Stankov. It is one of the most popular modern Bulgarian poems and was written in the near past when Bulgaria was not that different from today's Iran.
"Blind shephards pasture us for many ages.
They push us upward, make us climb forever
Where only dry and sticky weeds await us
With roots pulled out of earth by stormy weather.
We hardly see grass even after rainfall,
Though we are promised green and juicy meadows.
And if one steps aside to leave this main goal,
Then lurking wolves attack him from the shadows.
The shephards' voices all are hoarse from shouting,
They curse us, call us miserable bastards.
And we keep climbing up this desert mountain
In dire hope to reach their promised pastures...
But day shall come to reckon with the shephards:
Like avalanche, we'll fall on them together,
For butcher's knife is ultimately better
Than being led by a blind man forever."
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