Alas
The avalanche of time
Has stripped the faith in leaves and blossoms
From the land of poetry
The amber cloak of autumn
Draped upon life
And the shy hint of a smile
Framed behind a mask
Alas
The avalanche of time
Has dried the dream of rain
In the womb of clouds
Covered the colorful sleep of the earth
With a sorrowful nightmare of desert
And led the thirsty lips of blooming
Into silence
Afraid of the biting winter frost
Alas
The avalanche of time
Has spread the long pain of loneliness
Even over the illusion of shadows
Planted the cold feeling of separation
Between the hands of yearning
And called the ears to mourn
All the whispers
Alas
The avalanche of time
Has stolen the foreign flight of swallows
From the gaze of the window
Crushed the weightless joy of pigeons’ flight
Against the ground
And opened the doors of cages
That perhaps could not be seen
Alas
The avalanche of time
Has poured over the four walls of the house
And now
The only sound
Is the footfall of termites
Alas
How soon
The avalanche came
Arsalan – Tehran
September 21, 2020
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