recorded in Tehran in 1928
I came across a worn copy this 1928 Iranian disc and asked my old pal Kevan Harris to translate the label for me. He told me it was by the great singer Qamar-ol-Moluk Vaziri (b. 1905; d. 1959. No relation to the composer and tarist Col. Ali Naqi Vaziri; she named herself after him) who was, famously, the first woman to sing in front of men unveiled.
She made dozens of recordings in the late 20s, but this one is significant and exceedingly scarce. Kevan pointed out a very good English-language entry describing the song's "long and troubled history." https://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/morg-e-sahar
To summarize the article, the lyrics to Morg-E Sahar (Dawn Bird) were composed in the early 1920s when their author began to notice the rise of the dictatorship. When the country's new ruler Reza Shah heard Qamar-ol-Moluk sing it at a party in the mid-20s, he banned the second verse, which bemoans militarism, corruption, and tyranny. Over the course of the past century, the song has taken on significant nationalist meaning, through various administrations and hopes for a political new dawn in Iran.
The article, last updated a decade ago, points out there was at the time no evidence of a recording of it by Qamar-ol-Moluk existing. Since then, a copy of the first side has appeared on YouTube but the politically sensitive second side does not circulate online, so despite the poor condition of the disc, I felt obliged to make the entire performance available in reasonably listenable form. It is presented here in solidarity for the struggle of women in Iran.
The lyrics in English, taken from the above article are:
Dawn bird, lament! Make my brand burn even more. With the sparks from your sigh, break And turn this cage upside down. Wing-tied nightingale come out of the corner of your cage, and Sing the song of freedom for human kind. With your fiery breath ignite, The breath of this peopled land. The cruelty of the cruel and the tyranny of the hunter Have blown away my nest. O God, O Heavens, O Nature, Turn our dark night to dawn. It’s a new spring, roses are in bloom Dew drops are falling from my cloudy eyes This cage, like my heart, is narrow and dark. O fiery sigh set alight this cage O fate, do not pick the flower of my life. O rose, look towards this lover , Look again, again, again.
O heart-lost bird, shorten, shorten, shorten, The tale of separation.
Truth’s life has come to an end Faith and fidelity have been replaced by the shield of war. Lover’s lament and beloved’s coyness, Are but lies and have no power. Truth, love and affection are but myths Oath and honour are but vanished. For thieving, country and religion are pretexts, eyes are wet Landlord’s cruelty, master’s tyranny, The farmer’s restless from sorrow. The cup of the rich is full of pure wine, Our cup is filled with our heart’s blood. O anxious heart, cry out aloud And avoid those who have powerful hands,
Count not on justice. O rosy-cheeked cup-bearer, give the fiery water, Play a joyful tune, O charming friend. O sad nightingale lament from your cage. Because of your grief my heart is Full of sparks, sparks, sparks.
