Move

Move

 

Sky has rained till morn.

Shawl of snow round its neck ,

Tehran trembles

hands in pocket.

At times it dozes off

to dreams of Khorramshahr summer.

In the snow on the ledge

there's the trace of a paw -

My God , what do I see :

a cat with its blond kitten

has moved from the ledge

of a neighbor's roof

into the private hideout of the greenhouse!