Born in 1938, Shiraz
Nocturnal Garden, The Tired City, Sleep and Tree and the Loneliness of Earth, This Is the Lily that Sings, Blessed is Birth and Flight, Short Like Ah and Poems Shorter than Life
a Pot of Our Dust,
Translated to English by Parisa Parsi
his white hair...
Do you hear the dying wails of the Mad One?
Do you hear it in his white hair?
How old was the young man, who watched his
in water, in the Eastern Universe...
snow dripped, drop by drop, from the root of
his white hair.
And he would not stop on the road,
And snow would not stop on his hair.
In the beginning of youth, there is a gate,
which leads to the desert of old age.
Be careful, not to pass through the gate.
Old was the young man, who was staring and
What went over the stream, but water?
What did he see in the water, but the image
of old age?
Oh, Mouth of condolences,
Make a pot of our dust!