From Iran Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

From Iran

There are weeks, there are days
I read news; ‘finding caves'
They were home in old days
Home for my ancestors
Though it says: "You must wait, "
For findings, for things there,
They tell us: "It was house, "
They show works on the rocks
Like chisels hit to carve
Works are left as remarks

I ask me: "And then what? "
Should I shame or be proud?
In those years, of thousands
Ancestors lived in caves
With technic that they had
They sure chose best place.

My parents of those days
You who lived in the caves
I can move my brain
To those days and place
Let it learn, be trained
As if I, have lived then

Thanks to you; I'm proud
My birth place is Iran.