The Wind Blew Your House

hila sedighi

The wind blew away your house
And, you still worry about the wind blowing in my hair?!
The myth of which cave’s sleepers has you intoxicated so?
Why are you sleeping?
A hundred tribes go to ruins while you sleep
The scandal about the kingdom’s thieves is everywhere
But, with your two hands, you still hold on to the two ends of my shawl

You are asleep behind this worn out curtain, and I,
with this same ‘forbidden’ hair of mine
will weave a ladder as tall as the sunrise
to bring out the sun
And you are asleep and water passes over you
And you never saw
how in the forest, pine trees were cut down, night after night,

in place of poplar trees
And there were no tigers when
mythological Damavand Mountain
was hanged from the loin
And for every grain of rice that had come to our table through hard labor,
in the rice paddies,
they planted iron, bricks, and walls

And you are sleeping,

The wind blew away your house
The scandal about the loots has broken out
With your claws, you grab on to my night’s hair
Lest the famine-stricken nights of our dinner spread
reveals the emptiness of your fists
Lest anyone sees your temper

I am veiled
but not veiled according to volition of my own free body
I am veiled because of your spoiled body and mind
You are asleep behind this worn out curtain, and I,
with this same ‘forbidden’ hair of mine
will weave a ladder as tall as the sunrise
to bring out the sun.

-Hila Sedighi-

memories of day


Everything begins and everything has an end
this is the life
that in his infinite remains only
A long time ago a flower
withered by now and
that looks down
slowly dying …
leaving behind what a day
He was smile,
what a day it was love
what a day it belonged …
there remains nothing
that a clear memory
you who once were life!


-Susan Randall-


Beauty of Rains


How beautiful is the rain!
After the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane,
How beautiful is the rain!
How it clatters along the roofs
Like the tramp of hoofs!
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout!
Across the window-pane
It pours and pours
And swift and wide,
With a muddy tide,
Like a river down the gutter roars
The rain, the welcome rain!

Henry Longfellow-

The Rain

romantic rains

Forlorn, I sit facing the rain
waiting for you always
It’s been so long since you left
swearing to me, in the rain, you would return

I dream of you each night
my heart still holds you tight
knowing you will come back to me
So in the silence of the rain I sit

I will not listen to the naysayers
who speak of my going mad
Driven by a desire. lost in the war
I know in my heart, in the rain you will return

-Poetic Dreams-

Ode to Rose

She is so beautiful,
She is elegant and fragile
She is very sensitive,
Yet so powerful
Poets praise her,
Lovers need her,
She is loved by all
She is Nature’s wonder
She smells so special,
She is the symbol of Love
She brings peace and happiness,
Truly She is the queen of flowers,
Yes, the lovely Rose will always bloom,
And be the reason for thousand smiles.


-Nature Poems-

I don’t know why

sohrab Sepehri

People say horses are gentle,

And doves are beautiful,

And no one has vultures at home instead?

I don’t know why

The bud of a clover

Is known lower than a red tulip?

Eyes must be washed

Things must be seen differently

Words must be washed

Words must be the wind by themselves

Words must be the rain by themselves

Umbrellas should be closed!

We should go under the rain

We should take our mind, our memories into the rain

With all the people of the city

We should feel the rain

Under the rain

Friends must be found

Love must be searched

Under the rain

One should sleep with a woman

Games should be played

Under the rain

Things must be written

Words must be said

Lotus must be planted

Life is a continuous saturation

Life is swimming

In the pond of this moment

Let’s take off our clothes

Water is just one step away!

Let’s taste the brightness!


-Sohrab Sepehri-

Glance of Love


Where were you last night?
There was not even a glance, thrown my way,
Perchance, you were in search aright,
Of a false witness to prove, your presence away?

These fights of pretense,
And these intimacies intense
Feels like,
even as our eyes fought,
Our glances, respite sought.

The pride of your love,
So swells my heart,
That I would not shift my gaze,
Even if the Emperor were to pass.

Mere presence, my love, is not a meeting forsooth,
Let our eyes and glances mingle, to feel the truth.



Silence is Imaginary


As the night comes on in the Wachau, a single frog

in the water plants below, astonishingly loud, begins.

He is hesitant, starting and stopping. It seems the whole village

must hear him. He is looking for a mate, but no one answers.

He starts, he pauses, he starts again.

The scientists say that frogs are dying out. No one knows why.

I am sitting on the tiny deck of my hotel room, drinking wine.

How strange and beautiful he is, calling unseen in the darkness,

as the light fades and the mountains reveal a deeper black than black,

and a soft breeze barely stirs on this warm night.

Jupiter, it must be Jupiter, is the first ‘star’. Color is leaving.

The traffic is rare and distant on the river road.

Bells ring every fifteen minutes, two churches

almost in harmony. It is impossible to believe

everything is fading away; the beauty of the earth

cooling before a final consummation with our sun

long after we are gone. Eternity is now,

or rather it has been and will be. We interrupt,

a burglar in the house. We steal whatever is of value;

it affects nothing, a bagatelle. Yet we make eternity

visible. Without us, without the living, without the rocks

and stars, without the lovers in the next room,

nothing is possible. Without the black, or the tentative lights

in this village, without the knowledge we cannot have,

nothing is possible. The wine, as the night, is getting cooler.

The frog is now silent—he has given up—or perhaps

he has other plans, who knows? It is a swirling world,

nothing we do can touch it, and yet it is inside us.

Our bodies praise the bells, in love as we are.

Come, come, there is no distraction, no avoidance;

there is only that magnificent black line which separates

the now darkened sky from the greater dark

of the vineyard mountains and the unseen river beneath them,

that line which continues through the night,

a guidepost to something we will never know.



I have accepted


What can I do about the shortcomings of my limbs?
I have accepted that night is longer than my patience
And the moon farther than the dream of you
I have accepted that thoughts can live outside the body
Roam to a thousand places
I have resigned myself to the roundness of the earth
And that we have incidentally arrived at each other again
I have accepted that the impossible can become conceivable
If time ticked backwards–as it does Before Christ–
I would find the lips of my future
Lover in your eyes.
The fact that the mirror is not
Willing to double your beauty,
The fact that I seem smaller
Than myself on this side of the desk
Is not gravity’s fault
I have accepted that every circle is taut
And that diameter can at best
Only divide circumference
Into two equal parts.


Heaven on Earth



Rouse yourself from the sleep  
of negligence so that what 
shines out in the morning 
is not hidden from your eyes! 

The heaven you see above  
is not the heaven of God, 
but it is the earth below  
which encompasses that heaven. 

The stars submit to him, 
but conceal their prostration, 
and the sun shields its eyelids 
from the brilliance of his light. 

He is the intercessor for 
the community which follows him, 
just as his forefathers 
were for their forefathers. 

He is the trusted of God 
among His servants on earth, 
if at all the trusted can 
be counted in His country. 

This is the beloved one  
of the city of Mecca, 
and of its mountain paths, 
its black stone and the plain. 

There is a sign on him 
left by the Prophet’s marking, 
and a splendor about him 
which comes from the light of God.


The mother

old age women Labour

There is no photo of mother’s in the house
On every occasion for pictures she’s either
busy inside looking for some misplaced thing
or out gathering twigs, grass and water
In the forest she even encountered a tiger once
but kept her cool
She drove the beast away, cut her grass and returned
To light the fire and cook for everyone

I never fetched the firewood or cut the grass from the forest
and for the matter
never ever lit the fire,
I often sat on the heavily carved ancestral chair
on which one posed for picture now and then.
On mother’s face I can now see
The picture of a forest
Glimpses of firewood grass and water
And some object misplaced in the house.

~Manglesh Dabral~

I still miss someone

jhonny cash

I still miss someone
At my door the leaves are falling
The cold wild wind will come
Sweethearts walk by together
And I still miss someone

I go out on a party
And look for a little fun
But I find a darkened corner
‘Cause I still miss someone

Oh, no I never got over those blues eyes
I see them every where
I miss those arms that held me
When all the love was there

I wonder if she’s sorry
For leaving’ what we’d begun
There’s someone for me somewhere
And I still miss someone

I still miss someone
Oh, no I never got over those blues eyes
I see them every where
I miss those arms that held me
When all the love was there

I wonder if she’s sorry
For leavin’ what we’d begun
There’s someone for me somewhere
And I still miss someone

I still miss someone

~Johnny Cash~

Poison tree


I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole,
When the night had veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

-William Blake-