S.SepehriADDRESSWhere is the friend"s house?" It was dawn"when the rider asked.The sky pausedThe passerby bestowed the ray of light between his lips.onto the darkness of sands:And pointing his finger to a poplar tree,he saidNot far from the tree"There is an alley greener than the slumber of God.Where love is as blue as the Feathers of HonestyWalk to the end of alley emerging.from beyond Maturty.Take a turn towards the Flower of Solitude.Two steps to the flower.Stay at the foot of eternal jet of the earth"s myths.Then a transparent fear will encompass you:In the flowing intimacy of space , you will hear a rustleYou will behold a child.On a tall plane tree picking a young bird.from the Nest of LightAsk him".Where the friend"s house isIn this house I am close to the wet loneliness os grassI hear the sound of gardens breathingThe sound of the darkness raining from a leafThe light clearing its throat behind the treethe sneeze of water from every crack of a rockThe whisper of the swallow from spring"s rooftop.
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