Room for a Seedling ( مجال جوانه )

What if
I could draw the warmth of your smile
upon the cold ceiling of the sky,

so the clouds
would not again
weep upon the shoulders of the city,
and the dark knot of days
would be washed away
in a rainburst of joy.

What if
the restlessness of your gaze
grew wings,

so I might trace
the footsteps of the lost girls
through the merciless flood of shadows,
and carry a whisper of promise
to the lovers
in every alley and square.

What if
in the pulse of your breathing
I raised a song,

to sow the seeds of narcissus and hyacinth
into the weary soil of this land,

to robe the fearless sons
in garments of wedding light,
and lift the black cloth
from the shoulders
of young mothers.

What if
relentless time
did not slip from our grasp
but granted a moment of grace,

so that a fervent seedling
might drink
the rain-scented breath of the garden.

What if
the sullen color of the days
in the mirror of your eyes
began to crack.

—

Arsalan – Wiesbaden
26 February 2026

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• «dark knot of days» → بغضِ تیره‌ی ایام

• «merciless flood of shadows» → سیلابِ سنگدلِ سایه‌ها

• «moment of grace» → مجالی

• «rain-scented breath of the garden» → بوی باران‌خورده‌ی باغ