The Arghavan Tree

Elahe Eizadi

Arghavan,  
my blood-bound branch, left behind.  
What color is your sky today?  
Is the air sunlit,  
or still overcast?  
Outside the world,  
in this corner—  
no sky rests above my head,  
nothing of spring I've heard.  
A wall is all I see.  
And this hard black wall—  
it looms so close.
As I push a breath up,  
it pushes my breath back down.  
So blocked is the way  
that even my gaze  
can’t move a step ahead.  
A pale light from a sickly flame,  
echoing the story of a dark night.  
My breath fails me;  
even the air here is caged.  
All that surrounds me 
has faded to pale.  
Upon the oblivion of this tomb,  
not even a glance has the sun ever spared.  
In this quiet, forgotten corner,  
where the cold breath has dimmed every flame,  
a colorful memory lingers 
and fills my eyes.  
My Arghavan—it waits there,  
alone,  
softly weeping.