Poem Seller Angel Poem by Farzad Jahanbani

I was six years old; a small and lonesome dream seller

Girls and boys, my customers: 'I want one of Hafez's poem. Hey you, girl! '

Sometimes with a smile, sometimes not

With sorrow about random poems; general and vague repetitive phrases,

They said together.

In my heart along with every poem I gave,

I fixed a dandelion with a clamp;

A dandelion prettier than peacock feathers; brighter than a lantern;

Each dandelion more fragrant than hundreds of thousands of jasmines

Those grown in Hemat, Zafar and Gysha neighborhoods;

Grown outside the Tehran villas, I would clip them scrupulously

In return, I would pluck paper money one thousand times folded,

With my little hands, daintily I would pluck...

As if I had plucked the badness and filth from the hearts of people.

But at nights, I would see that filth in my dad's doping fire

And anything that remained from the ashes of his drugs,

From a piece of bread to a mouth in our dinner share;

Gently I would see…

*

Six years of age was I

Nights always drowned in dreams: a field full of flowers

I was a dancer; songster; happy and uproarious...

I picked narcissus, anemone, jasmine to beautify my poems up,

Drowsy in this paradise at nights

On the other end of the fog; diamonds would I pluck...

To forget that my dad sold all of me to golden teeth man in dark night

#Farzad_Jahanbani
Sunday, October 09,2016
Poem 208