In our dreams we lean
Against stems of those
Fig trees with huge longing for
Recalling our days of youth
And for those sweet moments
When we listened joyfully
To the chirping of sparrows
And to the melodies of nightingales
But our leaning against the walls
Of our sorrow-laden hearts
Impelled us to journey toward
The springs of our dreams
And of our visions leaving behind us
The hermitages
Our sad hearts seeking
Out meadows and
Fields of agate hued beauty
The splendor of riverbanks
The joy of springs
And the lush green
Of the trees .
The days of youth were beautiful
We used to listen to sings of nightingales
With adoration and great joy
