Unfamiliar words
have taken root
in the green essence of a leaf
All the seasons
roar in the spring sky
and an ancient longing
in the hidden corner of loneliness
mourns your silence
Again, I don't know
with which word
to call upon your presence
so that
the permanence of captivity
may trade places
with the doubt of freedom
Something or someone inside me
sings once more
even
in a moment when the garden
is emptied of the sound
of growing leaves
Something or someone
still
like a green spike of wheat
grows within me
from the alleys of childhood
to the chaotic bazaar of the city
From the overflow of droplets
on the fragile wall of yearning
it is nourished
It wanders
in the empty space of the room
and settles quietly
on the colorless sheet of paper
Arsalan - Tehran
June 2, 2018
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