Though I be old, clasp me one night to thy breast,
And I, when the dawn shall come to awaken me,
With the flush of youth on my cheek from thy bosom will rise.
Translated by Gertrude Bell (1868 – 1926)
The translation is a little creaky, but I like the idea. I think Iran will soon awaken because of having clasped for even a night (or a month or more) the idea of liberty. Dawn shall come.