Gift
February 13, 2001
The Iranian
Persian
original
Books have given birth to new Spring's sprouts
The stout trees are houses for thousands of birds
The graves are ripped open and I
Watch a poet in the mirror
Growing old.
You are standing behind him -
With a face sleepy, questioning
And cheerfully radiant. Holding
The addresses of all sunny cities
And the map of many new roads
In your hands.
Look there!
Like happy children
Caressing the dreams of birds
And under the pretext of rain
Wind and cloud
Playfully twist around each other.
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