I wonder if there is a tomorrow for the world
or is it that all the springs
that reflected our smiles like bright crystal
will dry up
and this mountain
this steadfast heart
will fall down
and the echoes of our voices
will no longer be heard.

That is why I talk to you
and only you
and for the present time
and for the mirrors
when there is something to talk about
when the earth
is in need of the songs
sung by cypress trees
when the cruel sound of stone throwing
shakes and breaks
all the windows
that were once caressed by the soft touch of the rainfall
when fear
blinds the eyes of all houses.

It is now two- thousand years
since a voice was heard
asking "who is going to throw the first stone?"
And now
all of us
want to know who picked up
and threw the first stone?
and what edict of dark- age ignorance
was inscribed on that stone.

At what bend along the road
did we fall behind
never to catch up again ?
Oh ! To whom can we complain
About this pain, this dark destiny?
All hospitals are ill
all windows are broken.
and when light wants to cross
the threshold of a house
it is wounded
and blood pours down its wound
Believe me
I have seen red beams of light
lost in blind alleys
looking for the right way
looking for a window
whose clear, transparent soul
has not been shattered by stones.

I have also seen a beam of light
that died at the closed door of a hospital.

I wonder if there is a tomorrow for the world.
so, I talk to you about today.

Shadab Vajdi