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Thursday 2004-06-10 - Esfahān, Iran
Poetry under the bridge
We want to continue our Esfahān bridge tour along the southern shore of the Zāyande river by passing under the Sī-o-se bridge and discover there’s a chaikhana (tea house) here. So we order a pot of tea and sit down on a small bench under one of the arches. After a little while, a young man sits down across from us and starts talking to us. He’s a writer, he tells us, and has written five books but can’t get them published here (why, remains unclear). He offers us a little poem which he writes down in Carla’s notebook - I can put it on my website, he says. So here it is:
Windows
People tell me
That windows
Don’t have feelings or a heart
But when the glass of a window
Is steamed up
And I’m writing with my finger on it
The words “I love you”
Then the window panes
Start to cry!
Sepāhān
(Moghpoet[at]yahoo.com)
