Night of Pleasant Loneliness
Listen, the world's farthest bird is singing.
The Night is fluid, whole, and open.
And the loudest branch of the season, hear the moon.
Stairs in front of the building,
Door with lantern in hand,
And the lavish breeze,
Listen, the road is calling your steps from afar.
Your eye is not the darkness's ornament.
Shake your eyelids, put on your shoes and come.
Come until the moon's feather alerts you
And Time sits with you on a lump of earth
And the psalms of night, absorbs your body
Like a piece of music.
There is a pious man there who will tell you:
The best thing is to come upon a look that is still moist with love's advent.
Translated by Mahvash Shahegh