[Intro — solo santur] Beloved Iran... The breeze has returned with news of spring. [Verse 1] I asked the garden, “Why are your branches trembling?” It answered, “The rose is near.” I asked the rose, “Why do you hide your color?” It answered, “Some beauty waits for the hour it can be seen.” O heart, do not mistake silence for emptiness. A seed makes no sound while preparing the earth for flowers. [Refrain] Bloom again, Iran. Bloom again. The root remembers what winter forgets. Bloom again, Iran. The garden still knows your name. [Verse 2] The nightingale sings before the rose opens. I asked him why. He said, “Must the lover wait until everyone else believes in spring?” Then sing. Sing while the branches are bare. Sing until one closed bud believes another. Sing until the garden cannot keep its color inside. [Refrain] Bloom again, Iran. Bloom again. The root remembers what winter forgets. Bloom again, Iran. The garden still knows your name. [Verse 3] O beloved, your name is not written only upon the land. It is carried from mother to child, from hand to hand, from one table where another place is always made, from one heart to another heart. A traveler may cross a thousand roads, yet one word can turn every road toward home: Iran. [Chorus] BELOVED IRAN, BLOOM AGAIN. LET EVERY ROSE OPEN IN ITS OWN COLOR. LET EVERY BRANCH REACH FOR ITS OWN SUN. LET THE NIGHTINGALE SING WITHOUT COUNTING WHO IS LISTENING. BELOVED IRAN, BLOOM AGAIN. THE GARDEN WAS NEVER DEAD. IT WAS WAITING. [Bridge — santur and voice] Do not ask which flower should lead. A garden with one flower is not a garden. Let crimson bloom beside white. Let the wildflower stand beside the rose. Let old roots feed new branches. Let the new branch reach farther than the tree imagined. This is not betrayal of the root. This is why the root endured. [Build] The breeze has entered the garden. One branch moves. Then another. One bird sings. Then another. One rose opens. Then— the whole garden remembers spring. [Final Chorus] BLOOM AGAIN. NOT AS A MEMORY. NOT AS A SHADOW. BLOOM AS SOMETHING THE WORLD HAS NEVER SEEN. LET EVERY COLOR FIND ITS PLACE. LET EVERY VOICE FIND ITS SONG. LET EVERY HEART FIND ITS HOME. BELOVED IRAN, BLOOM AGAIN. BLOOM AGAIN. BLOOM AGAIN. [Outro — solo santur] I asked spring, “When will you arrive?” Spring answered, “Beloved... I already have.”
