Different worlds

And so it begins...
The weaving of tapestries
  in threads of black ink

These drops are now dried
by a sun falling behind blue waters,
though my heart rises when I write them.

Soon the moon will accompany me
down lanes of memory
of the two of us toying with *sohbat*

Memories of sweet Fariba, the spiny cactus,
and dry winds that whisper across dry sands...

Here there is the bellow of seals
and the leaping of dolphins
to catch my eye.

Such different worlds.