World Literature:
Azita Ghahraman
The Lost Youth
With such green parlance
What is your dialogue about ?
That the Spring, naked,
Trembles inside my bones ? !...
Something elapsed
Something like light that is extinguished…
And we stand naked
Under this ruined arch
And the unfolded night
And the black silk that is fallen and
Skirted around our legs with broken stars.
I look at my wrinkled hands,
I glance at my aged palms
And know it well.
Some thing is beyond this spring.
Those wandering birds will not find a nest.
