The clouds are walking and smile a bit, above the green for joy inviting;
They call a playful rain; the green is shinning; the blue is winning…
And your heart is reading my Ghazal, but rhythm is missing:
Because from ink, ascends so sweet and white, the merry dove.
An arrow flies above the rest of world, the mirror’s love,
At other side of our night, when sun and moon are meeting:
A world of statues in which the dreams were pouring down
Since the beginning of the time, since nothing had been (known);
But clouds -huge butterflies, and maybe stars, just dreamt the light…
And those blind dreams were swimming to sweet season of love:
Here is the same river of time, where God forgot his blessed glove.
Unforgettable love at first sight, whose light follows the dove,
And crosses the world and the heavens of That One Love!