𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡,
𝑃𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡,
𝑃𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡,
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒...
𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑗𝑢𝑗𝑢𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑡
𝑍𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑖𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑎 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑠
𝐼𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒,
𝑂𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑙𝑑𝑠
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑢𝑛 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑠ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑦𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒;
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟,
𝐼𝑛 𝑦𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑠.
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑛
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑦𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑙𝑦;
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑑
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚.
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠,
𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑗𝑢𝑚𝑝 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒...
𝑀𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑏𝑜𝑦
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦,
𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑎 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑒...
𝐴 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒,
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑖𝑠ℎ...
𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔
𝑆𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑎𝑐 𝑗𝑎𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒!
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒!
𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑒,
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑡𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑏𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑢𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠,
𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠...
𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑒,
𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑢𝑠𝑡
𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑡
𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑠
𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑠...
𝐴𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑚𝑦 𝑗𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑦...
𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑒,
𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑙𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑠
𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼'𝑚 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑜𝑥𝑦𝑔𝑒𝑛...
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼'𝑚 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑥𝑦𝑔𝑒𝑛...
𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑏;
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑦,
𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢
𝐼 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑤𝑠...

And your neck is the dawn... 
And your neck is the dawn...
I will put your clothes on you;
  The call to prayer is raised;
I've woven the new adhan for you...
Like all your stories
And your shoes, my son...
All the buzz of branches and grape leaves are in your eyes...
And I will kiss...
All the white buds of sambac jasmine...
All the red buds of sambac jasmine...
From your heart...
your legs,
your arms,
Become golden...
The bud of the claw of your larynx turns green...
And your neck is
The tall white palm...
Your neck is the long rainbow...
For the butterfly to come through the walls...
For the coming of my flesh into your voice...

Evening,
The nice and warm wind of June...
it blows in the evening;
And it was spring...
You move my hair...
You move my skin...
You move my dress...
My dress comes alive;
It was spring...
And it is summer...
The two wheels of your childhood are colored...
Your eyes give olive...
Your eyes give olive...
Your eyes giving green olives...
I pick your berries;
The sun wakes up... ☀️
Your leaves wake up... 🌿

عَصر...
بادِ خوب و گرم خرداد...
عصر می وزید؛
و بهار بود...
موهایم را تکان می دهي...
پوستم را تکان می دهي...
پیراهنم را تکان می دهي...
پیراهنم زنده می شود؛
بهار بود...
و دیگر تابستان است...
دو چرخِ کودکي ات رنگی...
نگاهت زیتون مي دهد...
نگاهت زیتون مي دهد...
نگاهت زیتونِ سَبز مي دهد...
توت هایت را مي چینم؛
آفتاب بیدار می شود... ☀️
برگ هایت بیدار می شوند... 🌿

Your voice giving a green palm
The pigeon,
Bringing branches from your heaven
Bringing from your trees and blossoms
I weave your branches
You will be my drees
You will be the sun and your leaves
Be a butterfly...
Take the shape of a butterfly...
Angels sing you a lullaby to sleep...

And your glance,
Was the aroma of an orange tree...
That used to turn my body green;
When I'm seeing you,
Spring grows in me...

The smell of your hair
Left on my hand
Colorful;
And after your soil,
I have no meaning
The long white tuberose stems...

بوی موهایت
مانده به روی دستم
...رنگی
و بعد از خاک ات
من معنا ندارم
...ساقه های سپید بلند مریم

Pink and green shimmer
The voice of leaves and roses
Life sees the butterfly