The Valley of Hands of Clock

By Sheida Mohamadi

Translated by Dr. Fraideh Porgiv

Read by Catherine Coleman

My son my son the son of my wings

when the moon slips and falls in the valley of hands of clocks

when crocodiles of tailsman jump out of my dream

when the city is deceived by the sounds behind the door

hope you don't come out of the music room unannounced

and sleeping

hope dry eyes don't go after the small spring.

Always when it is snowing behind a happy window somewhere far away

milk and sweets and a few lovely stars

red car and Rustram's sword and some magical footwear

as soon as sleep closes my eyes with your winged horse move

from the tale to India and the smell of eyes and the smell of

ice cream and the smell of love

your dad has left the magic lantern in these sentences

with tiger cubs and naughty falcons pay attention to the sea

and the mountains of "it is said"

be careful Satan doesn't drop you suddenly here.

 

My son my son the son of my eyes

this alley is a thief go back

these walls full of blind and suspicious ghosts

don't show your pacifier to the flowers and trees here

kites full of snakes and scorpions

and friends here    have sharp horns at the end of the story

frightful claws

don't come here

stay with the happy and winged relatives

with the dust and the sun in your heart wherever in heaven

you go I will bring you sweets and chocolate and coloring

pencils from the mirror

take the sneezes of invisible cats seriously

don't come here.