I will break the pride of time. I will capture words by your kindness and will decorate roads with Daffodils. I will decorate the nights with lights.
There is a reflection of waiting for your coming in our tears, when my heart beats like a captured sparrow. I am waiting for the day tha make my warm hands by flames of your love.
I know that day is close. And that day, I will hear the AZAN of worship from the red larynx of tulip that is buried under the rubble of love that is like the God of light and kindness, like lightning bugs that chant tears.
That day I cry all of my loneliness and defenselessness in the pray of noon in KARBALA and I will melt the seconds with the flames of your love.
I am sure one day you will step in the carpet of flowers that their aroma attracts everyone. I know all of sunflowers turn to you forever. And they bow to your holy threshold, and then you will overwhelm fears and aberration, vice and darkness.
My Lord, I have a bad pain in my heart. I have a lump in my throat. I want to say about the enemies that pat me like a friend and I didn’t know their intent, but to whom? How should I trust and speak about my loneliness in the nights and about the hands that pat me but with egotism.
To whom can I say about the secret of loneliness that is with me for many years, the loneliness that became more and more without you? To whom do I say about the hands that are impatient in the Friday evenings? Do I speak about which pencil that fails in writing about you every moment. Every time that I think about the moments that you aren’t with me, the world seems like the place of torture.
I say to you about all of my bitterness and absolutism, about all of my songs that aren’t sung, and about the poems that aren’t composed.
Please solve me in the waiting for yourself. O, the whitest sonnet of fairness and love.
طبقه بندی: imam mahdi،