Poetry

The Sun sets dauntlessly,
small pools of water halt vaporizing,
and once again, jackals,
the ever ready jarring predators
pounce on the vulnerable nests of birds.
Thus rises a call from the West,
and another cry from the East.

Night will fall on a Blacksmith,
whose "Kaviyani" Pennant is covered with dust,
and darkness is the same as a napery,
which resembles the Dead-Eating Explorers.

Do not abandon me!
In this "Unholy Land",
the Shrine I have chosen,
has been bewitched by those,
who forge words and statures .



(( Poet: Seyed Morteza Hamidzadeh ))