A Rebirth

(for Forough Farrokhazhad)

when will i sing this song for you?

for i may never know again
the touch of your hand quiet
upon my shoulder while the light
you have brought to my window
illuminates the crowd we watch below

when will i sing this song for you?

for when time has passed
and the clock has chimed
the clock has chimed four
on the edge of the winter
where all must sleep the long sleep
dressed in the whitest blankets of delusion
from the quickness of the dark
will you heed my wordless voice
in the ebon retreat of silence
while you stand transfixed
by the sight of your mother in the mirror

(how young she has become in your thoughts
how old now you have become in her dreams)

for in the night’s refuge
in the innermost breeze of the soul
in the night’s refuge
if i would call your name
if i would reach for your hand
would you come
could you possibly come
for that instant for only that instant
when time has stopped
and the clock has chimed
the clock has chimed four
and we watch a star so far away
where no one is afraid of the light

even if everyone would know

that under the sanctuary of a pale moon
my creation still begins where you fill
the clouds of my tallest thoughts with the desire
to touch the sorrow you find in your own reflection

(is to long for you a sin . . .
a glorious sin . . .a voluptuous sin . . .
a sin best left to the narcotic repose of the past?)

when will i sing this song for you?

for you have heard the story
of the sad fairy in the ocean
i ask you not for her rebirth or death
i ask only to sit quiet at your feet
and listen long to her magic flute in your voice

at the onset of another cold season
in a room where despair is as deep and fast as the sky
yet as narrow as the image of your gaze
as it slowly combusts in the memory of my eye