It's gone My Yalda night

It is Yalda
and history
He cuts watermelon again
The seeds fall
And every seed
It is a coup
who pretends
It was a story

1298
The lights are dim
and contract
With the signature that
His pen came from another pocket
They said it was cold
and winter
He grew taller

1332
summer noon
But the night
More night than Yalda
The radio said: Calm down
and the street
The practice was silent
with cardboard tanks

1402
other
No, the radio convinces
No curtains
Hands up
Because the gloves have holes
and the internet
It has memory.

My Six, John!
My Yalda
is long
But the louder
Shorter shadows
You will get Hafiz's fortune
says
secrets
When they are repeated
themselves
They get exposed.

we
We counted the seeds
We understood the watermelon
and we saw
No matter how long the night is
be
the dawn
There is no secret appointment.

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