قصه‌ی شهریور

The Story of September

You who have been born in September,

Where is your ear of wheat?

There arrived December.

You who are a descendant of pure wine,

Pour your wine into the goblet of mine.

Set me on fire.

Fire!

For I am the extinguished fire of August.

My flames are the life itself.

Bring your wheat.

Inflame it within me,

One pile

After another.

The autumn left.

There arrived January.

The field of wheat is thirsty for rain.

April wept. May to June.

The entire spring wept.

Amidst the sunlight of July,

Behind trees,

In the middle of the grassland,

What are you doing?

Have you worn your floral blouse?

Have you braided your tresses?

Open it.

The warm wind of August is blowing.

Open it and throw it to the wind.

Did you see me?

I am fatigued,

Weary.

I am born in August.

Betake yourself towards me.

Give your hands to me,

So we can go together,

And run

And run.

Your September is upon us…

-Mohammad Najārī, August 18^th, 2018