Let me wander once
Through the garden of your motherland.
I wonder—would you stir, even for a moment,
So I might glimpse
Your whole, winsome scarf?
I would gather saffron flowers,
And a bucket of rainwater
By the banks of your renowned stream,
Lit by the distant Zabarwan Hills,
Just before the fragrant dusk.
Yes—perhaps I would see you,
Like the dusk itself
Softly bidding goodbye.
