POETRY

Eight paces from the gate,

Sixteen paces toward the wall.

Which scroll speaks of this treasure?

Oh, earth!

If only I could feel your pulse

Or make a jug out of your body.

Alas! I'm not a physician.

I'm not a potter.

I am only an heir, deprived,

wandering in search of a marked treasure.

Oh, hand that will bury me,

This is the mark of my tomb:

Eight paces from the gate,

Sixteen paces toward the wall.

In the Cemetery of the Infidels.

-- November 13, 1986

* When 27 years ago, my late wife, Ezzat Tabaiyan, was executed, on January 7, 1982, her body and those of others were buried without gravestones in the Cemetery of the Infidels, near Tehran.  Families were obliged to determine the burial locations by measuring paces.