On donkey, in the bag on saddle
On two sides, eye to eye
Two friends; lamb and I
Not so far and behind
My dad walked.

Plain vast with the hills
Rocks, stones scattered with bushes and trees
The path was gravel
It was cold and winter
Not for us, the friends
In warm bag; made of hair.

I heard the greeting between two
Dad and man on roadside.

He wore cap, black-wool
And a coat
Straight on shoulders
Wool, grey
Around him had shawl
It was his cummerbund
And loose pants, cotton, black
Ended in his long socks
Hand woven from wool
To his knees; and his shoes
Cotton based, and in case
of brown thick leather.

He looked like scarecrow
Holding his long stick
And flute like Chopoq
(Persian pipe)
On shawl’s side.

I was told and knew
He would play, and would sing
For the goats and bushes in desert
As had done before him prophets
Like the Psalm of David.

by Nassy Fesharaki

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