Thursday, July 21, 2011

Your Hands



















I see myself—without you,

All alone, lonely alone,
Wherever I go, anywhere I now step in,
I can but feel you, your image visible to me.

I can clearly remember your eyes,
Filled with pain, full of grief,
The story of your loneliness,
Was long, enough to suit tens of books.

Your memories are with me, anywhere I go,
Softly burning the days of my life…

* * * * *

You were shining like the sun for me,
In the cold, dark world of mine,
Of the always wet cheeks of mine,
Thus your fingers wiped the tears.

Where are those beautiful hands now?
Those good, kind hands of yours,
Why cannot be heard anymore,
The fairy tales from your crimson mouth?

No, I can never believe it ever,
All those lovely memories are gone,
The true lover of the blue of the skies,
Has left my heart behind the window.

The blue of the sky has turned to stone gray,
Dear God might be in deep sleep,
Not looking down from that high above heavens,
Not seeing all tears flooding on my cheeks.

Your memories are with me, anywhere I go,
Softly burning the days of my life…

A quick translation of an old Persian song
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