Ahmad Shamloo [A. Bamdad] (b. 1925)
The Garden of Mirror

With a lamp in my hand,

and a lamp shining ahead,

I am on my way

to fight against darkness.

The cradles of weariness

have stopped swaying,

And in the depths a sun

lightens the burnt-out galaxies.

The riotous cries of lightning,

When the hailstones take form

in the restless wombs of clouds;

And the silent pain of the vine

When the baby grapes appear

at the top of long, winding branches:

My cry was all an escape from pain,

Because, in the most horrible nights,

I have been seeking the sun

with a hopeless prayer.

You have come from the suns,

from the dawns.

In a void where there was neither a God,

nor fire,

I have been seeking your glances

and your trust

with a hopeless prayer.

A vital current

Between two deaths

In the emptiness between two solitudes:

Your trust is something like this!

Your joy is ruthless and noble,

Your breaths in my empty hands

are songs and grass.

I rise !

A lamp in my hand, a lamp in my heart.

I polish my rusty soul.

I set a mirror opposite yours

To make your image infinite

from:modern persian poetry