Breeze
Was in search of haven
-by brook, or creek, stream,
-or lake that beavers make
-and swim constantly
-to cut, move, collecting
-bush, branch and stick.
No matter how I searched
-the result was failure
-till ignored the fences
-with the signs: "Private! "
"Let me be guilty and
-my action ‘Trespass! '"
If remained in city
-could have gone crazy
-taking knife, killing me!
Missed the days of Hafez
-and the things I have heard
- "Rolled pants up and rested
-with his feet and ankles
-inside the Rokn-Abad,
-looking into water
- (pristine, crystal)
-all the way to sky
- (Clean and with stars)
-and with it he could soar
-to cosmos, seeking God…"
I needed some serene
-in life that concrete
-is base in all buildings.
Of beavers I dreamed
-saw them when crawling
-observed them like Shabdiz
-could feel them killed, skinned
-simply because we, the mankind
-are mad and stupid, egoist and selfish…
Wanted to watch breeze
-kiss hair of willow tree
-that always hides her face
-with branches lowered.
Wanted the shallow waves
-blushing face of lake
-in a shade of colours.
Wanted to be witness
-to nature when whispers
-with the ghosts, ancestors
-and souls of creatures.
Wanted to…
Wanted to…
Wanted to…
The sole way was to say:
- "The hell with sign on fence,
-The hell with what it says,
-The hell with mother Earth
-being sold or purchased! "
Felt seeing mother hen
-and her love for brood;
-felt the chicks trying
-to enjoy attention
-but the hen could never
-be killed and divided:
- "This belongs to richer! "
Recited wise poems
-of Khayyam and Rumi
-of Hafez and Saadi
-as well as Ganjavi's…
You were there and breeze
-danced softly with your hair
-kissed silk of your dress
-and exposed all your curves.
-Therefore, I love breeze.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem