“Speaking With Your Letters”بازآفرینی انگلیسی در سطح ادبی

Poetic English Re-Creation of “با نامه‌هایت گفتگو کردم”

Today,

I found myself speaking

with your letters.

The postman arrived

with an armful of them—

each envelope

still holding

the faint, warm trace

of your hands.

In the soft, fading glow

of this pale evening,

I wished

you were here—

beside me,

quiet,

so with every slow heartbeat

of the old wall clock,

we could trade

the things

we pretend to own.

No, my love—

there was no game in this,

and not even a whisper

of complaint

over what you lacked.

You said:

“one…”

and I murmured

my own

“one,”

laid gently on my lips,

tinged

with a quiet sorrow.

You counted:

“two…”

and I

was still standing

inside that first “one”—

held fast

by the truth

I carried.

You reached a thousand,

and I—

I held on

only to the single number

that belonged to me.

In the end,

you spoke

of your countless

visible treasures,

and I

of the quiet feeling

hidden within me.

What fault is there in that?

You spoke

of all you possessed,

and I—

only

of you.

Night had grown late;

a star blinked,

and the moon

scattered a soft,

white smile

across the sky…

Believe me—

in this gentle contest,

I was not

the one who lost.

Arsalan — Wiesbaden

25 November 2025