A Green Dream Poem by fraidoon warasta

in the name of
dark deep turquoise lake
happy flying fish
forgotten howling wolves
hammering woodpecker
and punctual pristine pines

hail to the rains and hails!
hail to the laughter of
our sunny-rainy village!

here!
the streets have no names
direction signs and numbering
in our village
the roads have no white lines
and zebra-crossing

trees inhale no smoke
in our village
leopards slumber peacefully
on the roofs of palaces

we do not know a coal-coated sky
in our village
but vastness of freedom and harmony
once an aeroplane flew over our village
in a matter of moments
pulled down by dragonflies

honey is made for bees
in our village
flowers are never picked for gift
people are given a tree
to look after instead

the ways are lofty and high
in our village
that's why the traces of vehicles
are invisible there

calves are getting old happily
on the chest of meadows
in our village
alongside their parents

children communicate
through shells and pebbles
in our village
for they do not know other means

we have continuously sun rays
in our village
we have also rain when specially flowers pray for

no one recognizes humanism
in our village
as everything exists amiably
in accordance with interconnectedness

there are no rules
in our village
as love is ensued timelessly everywhere

all roads lead to one realm
in our village
to one centre
to naturalness
home-nature
yes! home is where we have no village

long live the grass-spears
the shelter-mushrooms
the steady swaying sycamore

although the future is obscurely uncertain
in this village
.
.
.

fraidoonwarasta
24 february 2018
amsterdam