These eyes made of glass, who made them?
These eyes without expectation,
on whose path are they fixed?
Whose souvenir is this army of figurines
Silent as death left behind in the workshop?
These wind up toys merrily dancing,
around whose axis do they spin?
These paper boats made by childish hands,
what breeze are they waiting for, from what land?
These cardboard horsemen reciting the epics,
with whom do they seek battle?
The medals on these wooden figures
of what glories do they boast?
The clay hearts of the children of this city,
Whose hands are they waiting for to mold them?
The moss covering these humble ruins,
what spring fever has made them grow?
The light of our oil lamps make visible only lies,
to whom does my real sun now hold a mirror?
Simin Behbahani’s English Translations from the book entitled A Cup of Sin Courtesy of Syracuse University Press
