My death will arrive one day,
It may be a bright, spring dawn,
It may be a distant winter dusk,
Or perhaps a silent night-
I sinned a sin full of pleasure,
In an embrace which was warm and fiery.
I sinned surrounded by arms
that were hot and avenging and iron.
To me you are a wave;
never here, never there!
You are –still- nowhere!
I speak out of the deep of night
out of the deep of darkness
and out of the deep of night I speak.
I feel sad,
I feel blue.
I go outside and rub my cold fingers-
on the sleek shell of the silent night.
Only you, O Iranian woman, have remained
In bonds of wretchedness, misfortune, and cruelty;
If you want these bonds broken,
grasp the skirt of obstinacy
A dark and chanted verse is what I am
Forever bearing you
In myself imbued with you
Forth to the morning of eternal burgeonings and blooms
Why shall I mind, why?
Birds fled to the aquatic side,
The sphere is vertical,
The sphere is vertical-
Ay, age seven
Ay, the magnanimous moment of departure
Whatever happened after you,
happened in a mesh of insanity and ignorance.