Zagros

Could you let go of the threads?

There's still a few in the frame.

I think it looks nice.

Want to try it without?

Okay, it looks great.

It's perfect.

You can release the threads.

This one?

Yes, a bit of that red.

Isn't this orange?

- No. - Here.

Zahra, don't use that one here, love!

This one, then?

This red.

The deep red.

Yes, the deep red.

That is the faded red and this is the deep red.

Got it.

Pass the pink one over this way.

Here.

Sometimes when a square's done,

–you realize the colours don't look right. –It'll be fine.

Pass the deep yellow.

–Deep yellow... –Thread it through here.

–This one? –Yes, the deep yellow.

You've become such a perfectionist!

Well, one must be when weaving alone.

So finish it on your own.

My back already hurts.

Then don't weave so much.

What am I going to do with you... Is this it? This red?

That's it.

Let me have some too.

Don't tell me later I used the wrong one!

Which one did you use last time?

Which one?

Red.

I did what?

This knot.

No way!

–You used the wrong one. –I don't know.

I'll weave it over.

How many reds can you possibly have?

–Three or four. –Oof!

I have four red, five or six pink.

You've made it so complicated!

It'll be more beautiful this way.

Everything in life fits into a larger order.

It has its own harmonious place.

If you don't respect this,

you fall off your path and won't realize your potential,

or you'll be completely done for.

I have truly felt this in carpet-weaving.

Pass me the beater.

It's next to you.

While we're busy here, let's not forget about the food.

Kazemi!

Yes?

The rice might burn!

–Could you take a quick look? –Would you be so kind?

See how it's turning out.

Taste a little bit! Wait, no—don't mess it up.

Don't go and eat it all!

When we know a child will be born,

we cut a finished carpet.

It's our tradition.

–We trim the fringe, and roll it out in the courtyard. –Kooji. We call it Kooji.

It's called Kooji.

We don't announce we've put it there.

If a boy rings the doorbell,

the baby will be a boy.

And it's actually come true so far!

If a woman rings, the baby will be a girl.

In philosophy, colour is an 'accident'.

It doesn't exist until an encounter.

That is, unless you implement it onto an independent entity.

Only then does it manifest itself.

For example, unless you apply colour on a wall,

it cannot be perceived.

This is the definition of 'accident'.

Many argue whether 'accident' or 'essence' is primary.

All those arguments have their place.

The point is this very colour,

until the moment it's applied on this thing we call wool,

doesn't find meaning.

The more you walk on these carpets,

the bolder their colours become.

Because their yarn is made of wool.

Sheep's wool.

So refreshing is the spring water So bracing is the peak's source

Where the beloved drinks...

Where the beloved sways and sways...

And sways...!

That's a poem about Sabzeh-Kooh!

Hey, sing them a few of those songs,

the ones you already sang.

Sing the one for our hunter, Mirza Agha.

Or one about our green mountain, Sabzeh-Kooh.

...Mirza Agha's a good one. —Sing about Mirza Agha.

Mirza Agha's dying...

If you're gonna sing now, that's a good one.

He's been dead twenty years now, since he got addicted.

Sing.

Mirza Agha! With your American rifle

Its barrel shiny like a snake's throat

You've run your prey to the ground, everyone gather round!

Mirza Agha! With your American rifle

Its barrel shiny like a snake's throat

Hand it down to your son Kiomarss, to remember you by!

On the ibexes' mountain is the Leopard's lair, the Leopard's lair

Save us, O Mother!

Mirza Agha like a lion rules the forest.

Mirza Agha says I know my pain

But not the remedy, not the remedy

My incurable pain, he said

Save us, O Mother!

Blazes a fire in my soul.

Sabzeh Kooh is green and lush

And the air is sweet

But where is Mirza Agha?

Save us, O Mother!

Why doesn't he come sit with us?

Once in Sabzeh Kooh, an ibex moved its antlers

Mirza Agha showed it no mercy

Save us, O Mother!

He sent it flying against the rocks.

The peaks of Gineh-Shah are covered in snow, covered in snow

The pines of Abolzaar are washed by rain

Now the ibexes dance, fearless!

Save us, O Mother!

For our tribe has lost its hunter.

Thank you.

Not a sip of tea, not a cube of sugar!

How can I drink when that thin-waisted girl's scarf has come undone?

–Sing another one! –Again, again!

Ali Mohammad knows lots of poems.

Ali Mohammad is a poet himself!

Don't pour me tea Don't break me off any sugar

I'm not here to sit down.

Send everyone away, my charming companion!

–Oh, my... –Oh, my!

Watch his ears!

Wait, wait!

Just wait a second!

Get off! I want to get on.

Go get a stick.

I'm gonna go there, and charge back at you!

Do it backwards!

I'll go and race back, let's go!

Abbas, Come on!

Abol's gone off somewhere.

Next thing you know, he's dead...!

A moonlit night.

The sheep sleep here at night so they don't catch cold.

Yes.

Their own breath keeps them warm.

On cold nights we put them in here so they don't get chilly.

Once we load up here,

we head down to warm plains for three months, with God's help.

Three months in the mountains, three months in the plains.

It's what we do. We migrate.

It's warmer here, right?

Come on over.

Come sit down!

Come, you'll get cold.

This cold weather seriously endangers us.

Those who set off on foot are already there.

When thunder and lightning strike,

with strong winds and pouring rain,

that's when it's really hard.

There's no respite for nomads...

neither in Iran, nor abroad.

Always suffering in the wilderness, at the whim of nature.

The cold that you yourselves are experiencing,

and the heat! It's catastrophic.

Really, it's hard.

Nomadic life is challenging.

Just getting by is difficult.

Bring the heat a little closer, so you don't get cold.

Come on, go ahead.

There's supper here.

–I mean it. have some! –No thanks, Uncle, you're very kind.

It's nothing complicated.

No really, it's fine, thanks.

If we want to come by Karoon-4,

the road for the cars passes over the dam, right?

No, that's Karoon-2.

From down there, it forks into two roads.

Before, the road to Shahr-e-Kurd ran along the river, remember?

Did they build a bridge over Karoon-4?

A suspension bridge for cars?

Yes.

So that road also leads to Balut-Boland?

If you take Helisaad Boulevard, there's a bridge at the end.

I mean, can...

...No, no! —Nomads can't go that way, only cars.

Abdullah! Why are you saying that cars can pass?

No.

I mean next to the river.

You mean along the riverbank?