At the first light of the dawn
Asked the pilgrim:
“Do you happen to know
the abode of The Beloved?”
The skies went silent
save their mourning clouds,
save their falling stars.
The passer gave up his glowing twig
to the gloom of the sands
“Don’t you see that poplar tree?
Well, right before the tree,
There is lane that you’ll reckon, I deem.
For it is greener than a heavenly dream.
For it is generously shaded with the deep blues of love.
Well, If you See.
So walk down that lane
You’ll arrive to the garden of sense
Turn to the direction of the loner lake
Listen to the genuine hymn of leaves
Watch the eternal fountain
that flows from the spring of ancient myths
till you faint away in a plain fear.
And when a rigid noise clatter into the fluid intimacy of space
you’ll find a child
on the top of a tree,
next to the nest of awls
in hope of a golden egg.
Well, if you See.
You may be sure; the child’ll show you the way.
Well, If you just ask about
the abode of The Beloved.”
Sohrab Sepehri 1928-1980