The fifth season

I was narrating the spring

And you were slowly sleeping

In the fall of your dreams

***

Your hands cool,

As the manner of the fall

And your eyes fireful,

As the features of the fallen leaves beyond the wall

***
Again…

The struggle between colors and white velvet balls,

In the memories of the last frozen leaf

Far far away…

An image of a marigold, the bride of the spring's dolls


***
Someday …

You will narrate the spring…

A translation of my own poem in Persian