𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑠
𝑇𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛
𝐼𝑛 𝑁𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟...
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦
𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑛𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒...
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒;
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑓𝑓𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑙𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑑;
𝐶𝑎𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔;
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠...
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑘𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠;
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑚 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒,
𝐵𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑙𝑦
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑙𝑦
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑚 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒,
𝐵𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛...
𝐵𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒...
𝐵𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘...
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑢𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠,
𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠...
                            𝐹𝑖𝑟𝑒...
                  𝑀𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟...
               𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠...
                 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒...
𝑀𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑛,
𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑒...
𝑀𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑛,
𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑...

𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠,
𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑠...
𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤...
𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑤𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤...
𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠;
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤,
𝐼𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑤𝑠,
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑠 𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔...
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑠 𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔...
𝐵𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔...
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑤 𝑎𝑛𝑑
𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑝𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤,
𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑏𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑢𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠...
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑏𝑢𝑑𝑠
𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑏𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑢𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠,
𝐵𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑣𝑎𝑠𝑒;
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙...
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑓 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠,
𝑅𝑜𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑;
𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛...
𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛...
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒...
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑠,
𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔;
𝑌𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤...
𝑌𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤...
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒...
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛'𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠,
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑤𝑠, 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔;
𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛...
𝑌𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤...
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒...
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒,
𝑂𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑤,
𝑂𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠,
𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟;
𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒, 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒...
𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑
𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑
𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒...

𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡,
𝑃𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡,
𝑃𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡,
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒...
𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑗𝑢𝑗𝑢𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑡
𝑍𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑖𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑎 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑠
𝐼𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒,
𝑂𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑙𝑑𝑠
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑢𝑛 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑠ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑦𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒;
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟,
𝐼𝑛 𝑦𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑠.
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑛
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑦𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑙𝑦;
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑑
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚.
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠,
𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑗𝑢𝑚𝑝 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒...
𝑀𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑏𝑜𝑦
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦,
𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑎 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑒...
𝐴 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒,
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑖𝑠ℎ...
𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔
𝑆𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑎𝑐 𝑗𝑎𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒!
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒!
𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑒,
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑡𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑏𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑢𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠,
𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠...
𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑒,
𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑢𝑠𝑡
𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑡
𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑠
𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑠...
𝐴𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑚𝑦 𝑗𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑦...
𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑒,
𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑙𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑠
𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼'𝑚 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑜𝑥𝑦𝑔𝑒𝑛...
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼'𝑚 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑥𝑦𝑔𝑒𝑛...
𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑏;
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑦,
𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢
𝐼 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑤𝑠...

And your neck is the dawn... 
And your neck is the dawn...
I will put your clothes on you;
  The call to prayer is raised;
I've woven the new adhan for you...
Like all your stories
And your shoes, my son...
All the buzz of branches and grape leaves are in your eyes...
And I will kiss...
All the white buds of sambac jasmine...
All the red buds of sambac jasmine...
From your heart...
your legs,
your arms,
Become golden...
The bud of the claw of your larynx turns green...
And your neck is
The tall white palm...
Your neck is the long rainbow...
For the butterfly to come through the walls...
For the coming of my flesh into your voice...

Evening,
The nice and warm wind of June...
it blows in the evening;
And it was spring...
You move my hair...
You move my skin...
You move my dress...
My dress comes alive;
It was spring...
And it is summer...
The two wheels of your childhood are colored...
Your eyes give olive...
Your eyes give olive...
Your eyes giving green olives...
I pick your berries;
The sun wakes up... ☀️
Your leaves wake up... 🌿

عَصر...
بادِ خوب و گرم خرداد...
عصر می وزید؛
و بهار بود...
موهایم را تکان می دهي...
پوستم را تکان می دهي...
پیراهنم را تکان می دهي...
پیراهنم زنده می شود؛
بهار بود...
و دیگر تابستان است...
دو چرخِ کودکي ات رنگی...
نگاهت زیتون مي دهد...
نگاهت زیتون مي دهد...
نگاهت زیتونِ سَبز مي دهد...
توت هایت را مي چینم؛
آفتاب بیدار می شود... ☀️
برگ هایت بیدار می شوند... 🌿

Your voice giving a green palm
The pigeon,
Bringing branches from your heaven
Bringing from your trees and blossoms
I weave your branches
You will be my drees
You will be the sun and your leaves
Be a butterfly...
Take the shape of a butterfly...
Angels sing you a lullaby to sleep...

And your glance,
Was the aroma of an orange tree...
That used to turn my body green;
When I'm seeing you,
Spring grows in me...