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
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
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.