O Mother, O Mother! It Is The Time Of War

Four decades ago, an Iranian soldier from the Lorestan province was captured by Saddam’s troops. Before he was shot dead, he made a few requests: that his eyes remained uncovered; that he be permitted to face in the direction of Iran; and, that he be allowed to recite an epic ballad titled ‘Daye Daye’, a legendary song amongst Lori Iranian folk.

Such an incident would have passed without notice, until the recording of the soldier singing the Lori ballad was found a few years back in an abandoned house in Iraq. Last year, it finally reached his family. And a few days ago, it reached me via my brother, who requested its translation.

‘Daye Daye’ was composed in Lori, which is an Iranian language that bears some similarities to Persian. I could understand about 50%, so I had to find a translation from Lori to Persian. Below, I have translated the Persian into English.

O Mother! O Mother!

Strap my saddle and provisions
To my sturdy mare
Send any and all news of me
To my beloved uncles
O mother! O mother!
It is the time of war
The bandolier slung over my shoulder
Is replete with ammunition!
Seal the trenches shut
And haul out my body
Bring my corpse before
My mother so that she may
Weep and wail over me!
O carrier of my coffin!
Amble on gently, so that perhaps
I may glimpse my mother
Perhaps she will forgive me
And bless me, so that I may
Find peace in death
O beloved of mine!
Don your black garments
For now your valiant lion
Lies in his grave
O mother! O mother!
It is the time of war
The bandolier slung over my shoulder
Is replete with ammunition
Search every house from wall-to-wall
Lift my corpse in such a way
That the enemy cannot
Cast their gaze upon me
O carrier of my coffin!
Amble on gently, so that perhaps
I may glimpse my mother
Perhaps she will forgive me
And bless me, so that I may
Find peace in death
Send a letter to my daughters
So that after me they
Shall not wed my enemies
O mother! O mother!
It is the time of war
The bandolier slung over my shoulder
Is replete with ammunition
O beloved of mine!
Don your black garments
For now your valiant lion
Lies in his grave
O carrier of my coffin!
Amble on gently, so that perhaps
I may glimpse my mother
Perhaps she will forgive me
And bless me, so that I may
Find peace in death

Below is the famous rendition of ‘Daye Daye’ by Reza Saqayi. His is a voice crafted by God to sing folkloric songs. I urge you to listen to it, for truly beautiful music transcends language barriers.

On a final note, I distinguish between love of the homeland and nationalism. Nationalism is a disease that erects borders between brothers and constructs identities on flimsy boundaries that bend and break through the centuries. This is entirely absent in Daye Daye and the Lori love of the homeland.

Theirs is the same love that flows in Palestine and South Lebanon, a symbiotic love forged between a people and their homeland over centuries and millennia: in life, the people till the land with their hands and enjoy its fruits; in death, they find peaceful slumber in its bosom; and in martyrdom for the land, they imbue it with life renewed. There is no other love like this.