Listen! The farthest bird of the world sings.
Night is fluent, consistent and open.
and the most sonorous branch of the season hear the Moon.
The front stairs of the building,
In the lantern at hand
and in the profuse light wind,
Listen, the road is calling from afar to your steps,
your eye is not the ornament of darkness.
Shake eyelids, wear shoes, and come.
and come to where, the feather of the Moon hints to your finger
and Time sits down on a chunk of clay with you
and the bible of night absorbs your body to itself, like a song lyrics.
A pious man would be there to tell you:
The best thing is arriving to a look, wet from the accident of love.
Sohrab Sepehri (1928 - 1980)
Translated from Persian by Nasrin Yavari