The Lion’s Hunt

The white cloud makes the wondrous colours of the autumn sun shine colour comes out from within colour and joins another colour nameless and one after another. The white cloud beside the sun is the sun’s house. I am beside you open your claws like a lion seizing its prey. Open your claws and fill the empty space between your fingers with my slender fingertips. My hands are the house of your hand. The lines of our palms are streams that have come from far away and in the breast of a great plain have joined and joyful joyful now well up together. Two palms joined make a great roaring river whose fish have large shining scales and whose clear waves wash away the salt deposit from the stone’s eyelashes. Two palms joined make a world full of glossy acorns green willow branches bushes of wild yellow flowers mountain celery the great white poplar ... The leaves come spinning to the ground. I am beside you and all the leaves of the tall poplar are my faces. Walk! on the carpet of leaves. Rustle rustle this is the sound of worlds that spun and fell one after another and nameless beneath your steps. Walk. on a carpet that has covered the hardness of the earth; - over my faces, one after another ... Mountain cypresses oleander flowers wild pines trees, a tree things, each single thing are something more than just a name or a label. Walk walk the leaves are my faces that kiss the ankles of your feet with my moist lips. I am beside you hand in your hand gazing at the wondrous light of the sun in the month of Mehr that shines like this one after another from within the white strands of your hair ... 13/7/1381