A POEM i felt like preserving!

Sohrab Sepehri: In The Meadow

The turfs of such vastness;
The mounts of such heights;
... The meadow is engulfed by the fresh scent of the grass.

In that remote parish,
I was looking for something,
Maybe a dream, perhaps a fistful of sands,
Or a lightening, a smile,
Yes, something:
A fleeting trance
at least.

Behind the willows,
There is an innocent sense
-made of oblivion and of original void-
It is constantly calling my name.

I stay besides the reeds,
And I listen;
But,
Who is talking to me?
Who is calling my name?

**&**

A lizard slipped into the river,
I leave.
Ryes on my way.
Then it comes the green sight of the farms,
And forgetfulness that stream in the air...


**&**

I stay by the waterway,
I ousted my shoes, feet in the torrent:
Oh, so green I feel at this moment!
And so fluid, so sharp all my senses are!
So aware!
**&**

Who is behind the trees?
No one, only a lonely cow!



It is the noon,
-of a warm summer day-
Even the shadows know the name of the season.
The shadows are spotless and dense.
And in my bright, tidy space,
all the children of sense
Sometimes play, sometimes rest.

**&**

Life is not empty:
There is kindness,
And there is apple
and there is faith.

Life is full,
wherever flowers dare to bloom...
It is true, so true:
Till the last tulip
Life goes on worthwhile.


And now,
Now,
There is something in my heart;
And I am so restless,
Restless like a storm:
I like to run till the end of this perish
to the summit of this mount;
to the end of the perish-
summit of the mounts!

**&**

Faraway,
There is a Voice.
The Voice
is constantly calling my name.

A DULL AFTERNOON!

It’s a mid may afternoon. Like an inaudible anger it is sweeping this date. It’s like a tired dreading labor looking for his lover and her comforting touch but is sustaining his work with half dead will. Forgetting the enthusiasm of the morning this afternoon is sure that no history can be created today.

Sun is having a lot to deliver yet. Wind is hot enough to shut the windows and put the curtains on. Music is doing much little today then expectations.

Twinges of nostalgia in between are working as bit of escape. There used to be a time when heart had such springs in blood that no summer noon was a disturbance. That springtide was eternal but time went lot back in past.

Seems like nothing can be started and accomplished this noon. If sleeping is not an option available then just wait for the evening like I am doing.

A moment and a pond!

I sit silently by the side of a pond and look at the serenity of water. I have some issues with human voice! The way it twists the music of nature is unpleasant!

So! All those moments when I pick silence in a soothing splendor of Mother Nature! I feel an eternal reflection which settles in me forever!