Just like then
I bite and, it tastes like the apples in Feshark
In summer and fallen into shade, on the ground
We lifted and wiped them with sleeves, or tonban
Then ate them, not afraid or concerned, of how was.
Sanitary meant nothing with body strong
And we were made of earth and the rocks.
I picked up the apple, did the same as those days
In city, not village and in mind:
“It is city, Canada, not village of Iran
What if someone sees” what they think?
“This guy is doubtlessly crazy.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem