Amir Hossein Afrasiabi

I’m talking about the same
red rose in that little backyard,
whose perfume wafted in the afternoon
shadows of summer’s end
through the veranda and yard
(when you watered the footpath
and brewed tea).

The smells of summer’s end…

when I sat on the veranda
and spotted it
from over your shoulders,
red and fragrant.
I used to think, it’s there,
It’s still there…

I’m talking about the same red rose
in the little backyard of that house…

Read the original Persian poem here.