Exile
Read last night
Of plight of poet
Felt ashamed…
His poems…
Early age was of “do”,
Was of “must”, “think”, “grape cluster”…
And the hands behind it
In the farm and garden, in vineyard…
Then of love and alley
And the look of the girl, in absence…
He became a sample, example
Role model, the learned
But later came the change
Went Shah and…
New faith…
In exile where he died
He became a passive
He was vase of tears, complains…
How I hate the exile
Refuge, on the run
Homelessness…
I love you and miss you
Naderpoor…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem