Poetry

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Rice women

By Mina Javaherbin
May 1, 2001
The Iranian

Sweltering breeze chants

in Sefid-Rood valley.

Silver streams flow

under the yellow moon.

In the deep Noor Jungle

Koochak Khan disappears.

Sky is red.

As lions sleep,

cows roar.

Rice Woman walk with your stick

and when the rice color sky

rains,

remember how we played

in Shalizar?

Remember my skirt?

A soft blue color.

What did you know about blue then?

You thought it was magic,

We laughed.

But now

you know

that blue

is just another color for the sky.

And in the deep Noor Jungle

Koochak Khan disappears.

Sky is red.

As lions sleep,

cows roar.

Comment for The Iranian letters section Comment for the writer Mina Javaherbin