poetry
I look at each other, you have two sides
Half of it is in me and half of it is on me
Half of my door is spring full of gardens and skies full of rain
Half of me, the language of the clucking dirt and the eyes of the blind desert of Tabdaran
I close my eyes, you are a lamp
Bright and bright and horizons in illumination
I open my eyes, I see how poisonous and dark it is
Who is this difficult answer?
On which side should you live?
In the darkness oppress me
Or in bright horizons, bright in me?