Message

It is true! The storm roared spun round and carried me off like a sheet of paper, like nothing lost in the flood. I, far from you far from you, am tongueless throatless without the moving of my bloody lips; only in my heart with all my heart I cried out your name. And I entrusted the long syllables of your name to the winds and to the waters; – like a message in a sealed bottle given to the waves, far from the eyes of pirates – the waves turned turned with your name and carried you with them far from me far from my stormy house... Now in the house after the storm – in the respite between two storms! – the sweet Shahrivar morning shines. In the corner of the courtyard the persimmon leaves dance, whispering. Nightingales sing among the pines my heart still as on that day calls you by your name; at your name I begin to throb: thrilling here in the morning of my garden the magic colors of autumn with you I see. And there in your night behind your house the sound of the crickets in your garden with the sound of the waves of your river by the forest, I am hearing with you. With you I hear with you I see: the moon of your night is behind a cloud – your sky is cloudy – behind your house by the forest on the riverbank a deer has bowed its head to the river's breast, with its lips it plucks the buds of blue jasmine... It plucks and suddenly from the bed of the wave it lifts its head and stares at you. With a bewitching gaze a message it entrusts to the ocean of your eyes: – like a sign in a sealed bottle given to the waves, far from the eyes of pirates – a message from the depths of time from the depths of the heart a galaxy of undying hope: – my love... My love! It is true that it never became true – with storm or without storm – the distance between you and me, behind this curtain of tears in my eyes... The rooster is crowing...