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.