سه شنبه 31 فروردین 1389
"Where is the friend's house?" It was down when the rider asked.
The sky paused.
The passer-by bestowed the branch of light he had between his lips
On the darkness of the sands,
Pointed to a white poplar and said:
"Not far from the tree,
There is an alley which is greener than god's sleep,
And in which love is as blue as the feather of honesty.
You go to the end of that alley which leeds to maturity;
Then you turn toward the flower of loneliness;
Two steps from the flower,
At the foot of the eternal fountain of earth's myths, you stop
And a limpid fear engulfs you.
In the fluid sincerity of the atmosphere, you hear a rustle:
You see a child
Climbing up a high pine tree to take a chicken out of the light's nest
And you ask him
Where the friend's house is."
" Sohrab sepehri" translation:n.azadi
Motarjem j. vol2 no.7 1992