“The Garden of Love” is a poem written by William Blake some two centuries ago. There are very few poems that speak to me so directly and it seems he had experience living in Iran. I love it and share it here. The painting is also by Blake, the image is what the original book printed by Blake looks like.
I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And Thou shalt not. writ over the door;
So I turn’d to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet flowers bore.
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be:
And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars, my joys & desires.