To an image of a tree
which is imprisoned under ice in a pool
what would I say?

Me I've thought my only certain roof
is the sun

which in its burning
opens the umbrella of my dizziness
- like the subsiding of a fountain -
brings it down from the dizzy heights of my forehead,

but on the sun too
snow is lying

What would I say to the sounds of the departing ships
which are carrying nothing except water
- water which wanted to become rain -
and a god of all the goodbyes
has frightened away their sails
along with the pigeons on its shoulder

Bijan Elahi