This woman is describing her high opinion of her beloved as she ponders what sort of a gift to give him:
What should I throw at your feet
that would be worthy of your feet?
What shall I sing that could
Take the place of your words?
You might think with such lofty opinions of her beloved, the task of finding the appropriate gift would be impossible. Not to worry. She has it all covered.
My gift to you
Is a basket of affection
In return from you,
A smile would be plenty.
The guy seems to be hardly worth all this, yet, she seems to be more than willing to give:
The spread of my love is always open to you
Your love is the solution to all my problem,
I like to sacrifice all that I have for you
But your heart has no need for affection.
And why is she willing to give him so much?
I owe the warmth of my heart to your hands.
If you want my life, that would be fine with me.
I learned the alphabet of love from you
Whatever I have I owe to you.
The song demonstrates the element of sacrifice that so many of us have heard from our parents and grandparents: ghorboonet beram, fadat besham, etc. But, you can almost understand why she would be willing to sacrifice her life for him. He gave her something more valuable--the meaning of love.
From Googoosh's "Gift" (Peeshkesh)
Alphabet of Love
Grown Ups Miss the Cradle Too
Just because we are now a grown up doesn't mean there aren't times that we can use the comfort and security of childhood. That sentiment was captured eloquently, in a song performed by Googoosh entitled the "Cradle." (Gahvareh).
Having expressed to her mother her longing for the cradle, Googoosh then goes on to describe it.
That same cradle that I cannot recall
That same security that was real and true
That same place where the prince of the story
Always wanted the pauper girl
That same city that was my own size
Yet much bigger than this world
Where there was no fear of the shadow
Nor fright of the wind.
Where I would not get lost.
Nor would a pigeon.
Googoosh then anticipates her mother's answer that she is all grown up now. And, as bitter as it may seem, cradles are not becoming of a grown up. But that does nothing to make the adult child feel any different. She concludes the song with the same passage that started it:
I long to weep
Where is, mother,
My cradle?