There I was
on the pedestal, looking down; there was dust swirling
the deep well of the white mosque
mounting the hearts somehow.
Oh, there were so many colourless things.
I remember the soundless birds,
were they there?
I may have seen dying jasmins
all around the open field
filled with cold winter.
There I was sitting up in the layer of the cloud
, unhappy
walking barefoot in the land, unknown to me.
Why did I need to go to far places in my head
away from the clutter,
to many places bursting into my thoughts?!
I see one, two, oh, so many of disfigured faces
the rusty blade of the butcher\'s knife
oh, how I feel sad for the mother lamb.
Tears are a part of me,
I declared to myself that long ago.
Nobody knew it but my mother.