They became a plectrum to the saz, composed melodies,
In the Joseph’s School,* the garden of hope is planted
A wound doesn’t leave the tongue, ill words spread quickly,
It doesn’t rise from the ground, it falls, this road doesn’t end,
Tongues recite poems, roads await the beloved,
Sometimes even a smile is too much
Yearned for, seen in dreams, in the desert,
Sleep won’t come, in this lowly world,
Feelings do as they do, dreams in sleep,
Turn into nightmares upon waking,
Despondency on your face,
It waits patiently, “Whatever God wills is good,” it says,
Sadness comes, the heart burns, it rains like rain,
Wait, for a beautiful spring will come one day.
* Prison.
