به نام تویی که فراموشم نمی کنی

Listen!

The furthermost bird of the world sings

The night is neat, straight and wide.

The moon wispers

To the ears of the flowers,

To the ears of  the twigs.

In front of the stairs

Whitin the abundance of the breeze

A torch in my hand

I stand.

Listen!

The lanes is calling your steps

For your eyes not be the ornament of dark

Wash your eyes,

wear your shoes

and come.

Come until the moon’s nightly finger warns.

Come until the time sits on your side.

Come until the night’s scent absorbs

the mass of your limbs.

Listen!

I know,

There will be a wise

who will tell you then:

“The best instant is the night

you look into your eyes

and they are wet,

wet from the incidence of love.”

By Sohrab Sepehri

Translation: Maryam Dilmaghani

The poem Shab-e Tanha-yie Khoob was first published in the anthology Hajm-e Sabz (The Green Shape)  1967, Tehran