Opium Dens Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Opium dens

It has been said from early days:
"How can the hearing and seeing equal? "

It has been also said:
"Age is none but figures! "
Latter is nothing but mad comment.

Age is the container of life gone
If useful or wasted in the yawn
So means much
Gets things in, and takes out.

Opium den for most is
Reading it in the books, internet
For me is "Hajj Jackal"
The only Black man in Tehran
Of him I was scared as if death.

Smoking was banned so
Came police invading on and off
Like in hunt, greyhounds.

Opium that was sold in small piece
Had come in hard brown cylinders.

I had seen process, and making
Scratched were poppies to get milk
After its collection was left in a wide bowl,
Then it was left to time, it would thick
Shun the sun; and later on a board
It was rolled, rolled again and saved for
Day to come for selling in city, or village,
Or in town.

And so on…

The pipes of the Vafoors used with us
Never were as long as were Chinese.

And so on…