Snow1.A quarter of the night was goneAnd the snow was falling like the scattering feathers of the fairiesIn the thousands of legends and tales long forgottenLike an invisible commander,The wind was crazily ruling ordersOn a tired and sad and bewildered armyThe snow was falling and we were silent- Devoid of any worries-Treading our way step by stepA quiet garden alley spreading before our feetIt seemed as if in every few stepsA light was on for us on a cypress treeWith a pale and dim flickerLost in the darkness of this winter snowThe snow was falling and we were walkingSlowly, sometimes alone, sometimes togetherWhat sorrowful complaints we broughtWhat sweet stories we retold!None of us knewOn what moment of the night this snow has begunNor did anyone knewWhere this turning and curling road was dragging usThe snow was falling and people had goneOn this road before us, under this quiet snowPeople like us, happy and unhappy,They had gone and their footprints could be seen2.A quarter of the night was gone and our countless companionsWere walking silently under this sad and messy snow,Sometimes joyful and happy and bold,Sometimes as if frightened by the abyss of a hidden fear,Looking for footprintsAnd telling the legends of the stepsWho had trodden this way beforeLike a fatling wolf cub, free and at large,I was running here and thereSinging heartily a happy song in each stepSaluting joyfully this divine kingly blessingThat was falling on every head and in every directionIt was all road and the road- this lying whore- this twin of the man's foot since the first dayIt was all snow and snow- this turbulent messenger- this cold message of pureness and of age;And the quiet peaceful silence,Endless and melancholicWe were walking and from time to time,I was asking myself:" Hey, let me see! You the drunk, the intoxicated!Is this you? – So joyful and merry?Moving in this long and fearful journey?"[And it was me, so infatigable,Vigil in eyes and aware in heart,Leaning against the wall of silence,All ears to hear the mildest sound,Walking happily, blissfully over the moon!3.Now we were passing under a lamp with a watery lightEverything pale and dead in soul – near or far-And at this time I noticed a sad stork sitting on a hunchback treeThe tree loaded with snowWith no friend and no companion but snowLeft behind the emigrating caravanThe stork was talking to itself:" A horrifying wilderness this isAnd the silent gray is snowing and snowingAnd then old quiet silence brings no messageBehind those invisible faraway landsThere may be heat and light and music;There may a familiar warm wing;But me, alas!I am but a very lonely old bird –left behindMy inabilities a chain on my legsAnd if I open arms to the wind, hardly but zealously,The will of my wings cannot turn any wheel,Like the broken wheel of an old and deserted windmillThe sky is tight with no windowOn earth, the snow has covered the traces of caravansWho have gone in the wilderness to unknown landsThe wind is like a rain of needles, water is like ironAll signs are sunk in the no-signI remember the bountiful days of youthAnd the joy of pioneering in flightWhich was so elegant and so sweet!No one could forerun meNever did I follow othersNeedless of the humility of obeying rules and ritualsThe road was what I would takeThe rituals were what I would doNow, but , alas!Oh, the heavy dark and cruel night…"The sad stork had opened its heart to its own privacy.We were still on the way and it was snowingWhoever could see in front of himWas looking for a footprintBut me, I had lost my joy and my merrinessMy youthfulness was hurt by a cold contemplationAshamed of the footprint I treaded,I would tell myself every now and then:" When will you separate your way from these flocks whose leader is the goat?When will you send your courage to forerun like a flagAnd to leave footprints of his ownOn the roads not trodden before?4.It was still snowing, sad and gloomyBut I was happy once again.Now I was away from the goats and the sheepI was myself the herd and the shepherdOn the vast empty snow-covered plainsI was advancing slowly and joyfully aloneCarrying my own flagThe pure and virgin snowsGave a pleasant melody under my feetIn every step, my foot was planting the seed of its virgin traceOn the snowTo deflower the treasures of mystery,To imprint a new design of oneself in every step,What a Godly pride it brought to my heart!5.I don't remember wellHow far I had gone,When I heard a cryOr I just had the desireTo look backward and thus I didThe trodden way was now laying before my eyesA vast snow-covered plain had been my wayMy feet had added my trace thereonI turned back a few steps, it was snowingI turned back, it was snowingThe footprints were fresh but it was snowingI turned back, it was snowingThe footprints could be seen but it was snowingI turned back, it was snowingThe footprints could still be seen but it was snowingI turned back, it was snowingIt was snowingIt was snowing, snowing, snowing,..Snow has covered my footprints too.Tehran, March- April 1958
