Persian-style sonnet from my book “Sky In River” published by Infinity Publishing Company.
Where is that brave, who has seen your face, daring to speak?
Where is beloved, who has longed for you, and didn’t freak?
Who has the patience, to smell your scent, from far meadows,
The source of that scent, on head and on feet, began not to seek?
Who on the globe, has seen a picture, behind some curtains,
Kept claiming arts, before your image, didn’t go bleak?
By the way you pass, I’ll stay waiting, for the longest time,
Despite reproach, of other lovers, I will stay meek.
Story of love, is a common gift, among all beings,
Bigger share will go, to the ones on earth, who look very weak.
At every moment, somebody has moaned, pain of sweet love,
For some centuries, this has been going, not only one week.
Where has been that soul, after seeing you, among a group,
Didn’t heave a sigh, didn’t startle, and didn’t shriek?
Where has been the bird, lost from flock, while on a journey,
On a bare branch, perching and looking, and didn’t creak?
Isn’t this true, all snow flakes, that fall on slopes,
For joining oceans, after melting down, look for a creek?
Who was the first soul, despite taking oath, of a secrecy,
No kind of gesture, to other lovers, he ever did leak?
Your whole beauty, goes beyond grasp, of all creatures,
Chehree is talking, behind a thick fog, of one streak.
