Forgotten**
by Seyed Morteza Hamidzadeh

O, witnesses of the night
Exile me
To the most distant point of the universe
In the complex area of the vacuum
Moment by moment
I think about my enjoyment
That night
The voice of the calligrapher's pen was heard
And I feigned sleep
I became tired
Time
Is my place to act
I have acknowledged my faith
I shall go to the cemetery
To dig a grave for myself
But,
The weather is cold
It's snowing
And umbrellas
Have put my burial ceremony off.