In Golestaneh در گلستانه

What wide plains!
What lofty mountains!
What a scent of grass filled Golestaneh!
I was searching for something in this village:
for a sleep, perhaps,
for a light, a pebble, a smile.

Behind the poplars
there was a pure heedlessness, calling my name.

I stopped at the edge of a reed bed; the wind was blowing; I listened:
who was speaking to me?
A lizard slipped away.
I started walking.
An alfalfa field along the way,
then a cucumber patch, safflower bushes,
and the earth's forgetfulness.

At the water's edge
I took off my givehs and sat, feet in the stream:
"How green I am today,
and how awake my body is!
What if some sorrow comes round the mountain?
Who is hiding behind the trees?
No one — only a cow grazing in the plot.
It is summer noon.
The shadows know what kind of summer it is:
shadows without stain,
a corner bright and pure.
Children of feeling! This is the place to play.
Life is not empty:
there is kindness, there are apples, there is faith.
Yes —
as long as the anemone blooms, one must live.

There is something in my heart, like a grove of light, like sleep before dawn,
and I am so restless that I want
to run to the end of the plain, to climb to the top of the mountain.
Far away, there is a voice that keeps calling me."