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Mansour Owji
Poet
Iran
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Born in 1938, Shiraz
Works:
Nocturnal Garden, The Tired City, Sleep and Tree and the Loneliness of Earth, This Is the Lily that Sings, Blessed is Birth and Flight, Short Like Ah and Poems Shorter than Life
Make a Pot of Our Dust
Translated to English by Parisa Parsi
In his white hair...
Do you hear the dying wails of the Mad One?
Do you hear it in his white hair?
How old was the young man, who watched his image?
in water, in the Eastern Universe...
snow dripped, drop by drop, from the root of his white hair.
And he would not stop on the road,
And snow would not stop on his hair.
In the beginning of youth, there is a gate, a gate
which leads to the desert of old age.
Be careful, not to pass through the gate.
Old was the young man, who was staring and not stopping.
What went over the stream, but water?
What did he see in the water, but the image of old age?
Oh, Mouth of condolences,
Make a pot of our dust!
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