The Words Still Sing ( واژگان هنوز می خوانند )

Unknown words
are rooted
in the green feeling of leaves

All seasons
roar in the spring sky
and a long-standing sorrow
in the hidden corner of loneliness
complains of your silence

Again, I do not know
with what word
to call your presence
to trade
the permanence of captivity
for the uncertainty of release

Something or someone within me
sings once more
even
in the moment when the garden
empties of the sound
of leaves growing

Something or someone
still grows within me
like a green spike of wheat
from the alleyways of childhood
to the chaotic marketplace of the city

It is quenched
by the overflow of drops
on the thin wall of yearning

It wanders in the empty room
and rests gently
on the colourless surface of a sheet of paper

Arsalan – Tehran
June 2, 2018