Pezhvan*                                                                            

One day

one autumn day

I was walking along a dusty road

which by its turns and twists

seemed to be telling something

I walked a bit here, a bit there

 and a bit more here,

and a bit more there

and paid no attention

to the turning of the road

and twisting of the road

I walked, and I played

and went about

the affairs of my heart

I saw

colors of the flowers

around and about

the road

It was

about a quarter to something

or other

and the day as bright as sun-day

I was,

as once I might have thought,

at peace

with the universe

and in harmony

with it

            ...

A child my age

dressed in my skin

was walking the dusty road

looking down  into the faces of

flowers

whispering

in to their ears

so careful

as if

reciting the sacred prayers of

the Magi

...

There was a man

old

sitting by the gate of the dusty road

watching the road

and counting flowers

His eyes dried up

Sunken into two holes.

Can you tell me

what the child is whispering

I asked.

looking with the greatest care into

the road

He said,

as if

he was watching something

happening,

nothing

Is this what you are looking for

He asked

pointing to a little white stone

The stone was sculptured

in a stream

a little stream,

a little stream that one can

tell has been flowing

neither in time

nor with time

or  by time

It just has been flowing

What is the child whispering

I asked

again.

The old man said

nothing

again.

and with the greatest care

kept looking into

the road

The child closer to me

now

whispered into the ears of a

red tulip

"I am happy

And I am sad

I love

And I am loved

Then

Tell me

Why .."

The old man began so slowly,

facing the road, looking into it,

to speak

One day

one autumn day

I was walking along a dusty road

which by its turns and twists seem to be telling

something ...

...

I looked up and saw

a mist

a yellowish brown mist

I heard

a thunder

and saw

the road

turning

and saw

the road

twisting

and saw

myself

child's age

dressed in my skin

flat on my back ...

...

i

sat

where the old man used to sit

and I looked into the road

counting red tulips,

tulips that were not there

before the mist

I am looking into

the road to find

The child

my age

dressed in

my skin

.

* Pezhvan in Kurdish means Sad.

Copyright © 2007 by giv arya