I was born on such a day.

On the dimple of Libra’s cheeks٫

from a mother with a smile of May

and a father from the sparkle of June’s eyes.

Granny named me “New-joy”

in the name of a sprout

growing through pavings of burnt heaven.

But mom would have a goddess,

with seven hands and thirteen legs.

Instead papa made a delicate idol of me,

and put me on the forehead of fireplace

and fell asleep.

And I became the guard of the fire.

I even didn’t get when the spring came,

and how the summer passed.

The winds blew,the flood came and  the soil lasted.

The years passed and me and the fire

got burnt and laughed and danced.

We blew up ashes and howled

until the wind, flood and soil back down.

And I got in to the autumn of my life.

To the ripe season of Forty.

To the colorful season of sweet and sour memories.

The season of the golden songs of the wheat field,

and the wild color of blood

 flowing in the veins of the trees.

And the wet blue,sprinkled on the sky.

And the free dance of drunk leaves.

And the lunatic guffaws of clouds.

The season of Sama of the wind.

and the sinless lust of the rain

and pairing of persimmons,

weeding of pomegranates

and birth giving of oranges and lemons

The autumn…

Elahe Rahroniya(Noshad)

4 Oct 2021