تردید آتش به جان می زند.
ایستاده ام بر سر دو راهی گریختن، و ایستادن . . .
Dream
It is for sometimes now that I dream a strange dream, that when I wake up it seems to me that I have strayed into a dream instead, my dream felt more real. For I feel tenderness, a passion that is unlikely to happen in my waking hours, and I see a future long lost.
When I wake up, I lie on my back and taste the fading remains of that feeling, And despair, sorrow and a strange longing for the unknown breaks my heart.
So the rest of my day is ruined. All those long hours I stare into the void, trying to see behind the veils of eternity, amazed why I feel lost and forlorn, longing to escape from these high walls around me, wondering whether this is reality or dream.
Day comes to its end, I close my eyes with a heavy heart, telling my mind it has no right to torture me like this. But in the depth of my soul I wish to see that dream once more, to feel that passion once again.
And I stray into the reality of my being . . .
روز هشتم
و روز هشتم آفریده آدمی زاده شد
- تمنا . . .
