Step after step we track you searching for some sign;
the salt of our tears burns our throat as your sweet wine.
We bear your living presence in our longing heart;
but your curls and dancing eyes we can’t live without.
Farhad dug through rock to one day find his Shireen;
we breathe your name in hope that beauty’s form be seen.
The pale dawn broke and washed the eyes with shards of light:
pain is small coin to pay for the price of such delight.
We know we must renounce the lie of our own fiction;
we know we must die to our every conception.
The master’s warm hand reaches out and touches ours;
each breath is an arti to offer him fresh flowers.
With each step Darvish finds a clue in the wise earth;
breathing, he longs to die and in beauty find rebirth.