What Became of Us?

 

With rolling pearls of verse,
We fell in love.
To the mystic melodies of the Mathnawi,
We swayed in ecstatic dance.

Through the Golestan,
With a kindred soul,
We turned each page,
And in the ethereal twists of Saeb’s words,
We stood in wonder,
Biting our fingers in awe.

It was beyond belief
That we had come this far.

In the prison of the Nay,
We wept with Masoud Sa’d.
Upon the broken terrace of Madain,
We joined the laments of Khaghani.

With heart and soul,
We guarded the blossoms of the Bustan,
Yet we saw, with our own eyes,
The barrenness of time’s caravan.

What became of us
That we have arrived here?

The tales of Sistan’s warriors
Slipped from the lips of the sage.
“Kaaveh” became but a name,
Echoing in the marketplace of brass and steel.
“Arash” sat idle in his chamber,
Weaving charms against the evil eye.
And “Sohrab,” beneath the shadow of a dagger,
Lost his life in the silence of the night.

What was taken from us
That we have come to this?

No Khosrow remained,
Nor any Kay Khosrow.
No Layla, no Zuleikha,
Not a trace of Scheherazade’s tales.

No harmony, no kindred souls,
And in the burden of ancient wisdom,
No lingering whispers,
No resounding words.

What became of us
That we have arrived here?

Amidst the ruins of memories,
I sought you.
At the dawn of each book,
I inscribed a poem in your name.

The city
Was drowning in sorrow,
And all that remained of my words
Was but an elegy,
Sung in your memory.

How bitter the road has been,
To have brought us here.

Arsalan – Tehran
March 13, 2025