Long has it been

                              since journeying from poetry

                                                                                    stony ground toward the unknown

                                                                                                                                                    in search

Long has it been

                              without giving out

                                                                 sorrowful

                                                                                  toward somewhere

That lover of lovers am I

                                              whose lovers

                                                                     will not admit me

                                                                                                      to any lane

Everything

                  —dust or star—

                                                a sign

                                                         of some longing

With every heavy sleeper

                                             on the wave of this sleep

                                                                                         I hold

                                                                                                    a conversation

With this silence

                              yet

                                   mine is both sorrow

                                                                       and delight

A burden it is

                          I carry to the waystation

                                                                     across the precipice

                                                                                                        by a single hair

Whatever is unsaid

                                  in the heart

                                                       gathers

                                                                   like a mountain

Sea-hearted I am, and toward the sea

                                                                    I have

                                                                              a journey

                                                                                              from far away

I, drunk on clear wine in the night

                                                                beloved

                                                                             mine is

                                                                                          a cup of light

<em>Translated from the Persian by Owrang Editorial</em>