Satkhol 2012-Wide (at the door of the beloved)



How can I locate the nightingale on a mere branch,
When its song is vibrating everywhere?
How can I limit the rose to its form,
When its fragrance has filled the air?
How can I limit myself to my body,
When I can hold the whole world in my heart?
All it takes is closing my eyes,
to feel the world's heart beating in my chest.
And to see with the heart's eyes,
My wings have spread from east to west.
Where does the rose end when its fragrance flows to all?
Where do I end and others start?
Are there any others at all?

Markdale - May 19,2017

Settling to leave

The shelves on the wall, holding my favourite music CDs, attest that I am settled all!
The familiar tune of music dancing in the air,
meandering down memory lane, robs me of the reality of present moment,
takes me to remote years in the past ...
A travel in time, to a time when I thought, I was settled then, where I was.
How many times after that have I thought the same?
Yet I kept going, moving in time,
Voyaging into various stages of my being,
Changing ...
How many more times I will feel settled and still will keep moving ...
Moulding myself, my home, my world?
How illusory this notion of settledness seems in a world that changes from moment to moment!
How momentarily could our stay be in each stage of our stay.
And in the end there is no stay ...
All there is, is only leaving
Loving ... yet leaving
Letting go of what is and longing for what is yet to be!
A thread however seems to connect all this scatteredness, uniting all the pieces into one being.
This illusive being that we are,
In our everlasting unsettledness!
Not the wisp of whims and wishes that wishes to cling,
But the very essence of that unknown longing that keeps us going ...
For here below no home gives a permanent sense of belonging,
Hence our everlasting longing!

Negin, April 3,2017
Beaverton, ON, Canada


The day is pausing at the beginning of itself,
And the season at its end

The window between my stare and the snow that is falling,
And the smoke between the gaze and the window.

And all this, is coming into consciousness only
As the eyelids pause before falling.

I close my eyes to the snow flakes,
Into joyful dance of blossom within.

In the light of a dawn at the beginning of the world,
That still is pausing at the beginning of itself.

Tehran- February 2008


روز در آغاز خود درنگ می کند
و فصل در پایان خود

 پنجره میان خیرگی نگاه من و بارش برف
و دود در میانه ی نگاه و پنجره

 و اینهمه تنها از آنرو به درک می رسد
که پلک در فرو افتادن

 چشم می بندم از دانه های برف
به رقص شادمانه ی شکوفه در درون

 در روشنایی سپیده دمی در آغاز جهان
که همچنان در آغاز خود درنگ می کند

  نگین-16 بهمن