A Magic Knife Poem by Seyyed Bagher Mirshojaee

The little old boy
Free from sorrow and joy
Summons up an imaginary image of life
Of a man who managed to make a magic knife
To cut all bad dreams of nights
To make a pen by which he writes
Poems of leaves, clouds and kites
To peel the apple of love
For a white wounded dove
And all the birds, beasts, and human beings
To inculcate for them to fly above the world with wonderful wings
To make a little house out of wood
For the wanderers to be warmly understood
To carve the picture of the mothers and fathers on stone
So as the little ones never feel their eyes alone
To put it in the hands of surgeons to operate
Skillfully on heart suffering ones to have so large number of sunny days to calculate
And to do something for the garden
But, alas, it is late dear plants, dear flowers and trees;
I do beg your pardon.