An Oak

To your death darling
tears are too little
They promised me
Promised me you'll rise as an oak


An oak
by a little brook
that gets deeper as it goes
as it widens to a stream
a stream that renders its rivery water
to the young deer resting in your shade

Promise me you won't be jealous
'cause sooner or later
I'll be a river right by your side.

English Translation by
Dr. Abol Froushan

by Ali Abdolrezaei

Other poems of ABDOLREZAEI (23)

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