In That Fair World
May I be allowed,
to behold the hue of that fresh blossom
as I stand at the base of this wall?
And, through this bloody, thorny fence,
this barbed wire,
may I drink a sip of spring water?
May I be allowed Outside, In Front of the Door?
And to regain my strength,
rest by this tree, may I?
Or, must I pass through this road,
a stranger, now and always,
swallow centuries of “You May Not”,
like a dagger piercing my patient throat?
In the shadowland of this vast cerulean tent,
it would have been fair,
if trees, land, water or sunshine,
did not belong to anyone!
Or, better yet,
belonged to all. […]
Translated by Faranak Moshiri
Fereydoon Moshiri at 99