Once again turned back

 (On long paths, looking back is a source of reassurance and safety)
 Once again my eyes go to that place;
 To a square mark the sides of the heart,
 Measured by a closed eye,
 (I used to grope the walls of the houses and ran with my eyes closed until I reached...
 I didn't know where I got.)
 .....
 He turned to the sanctuary of beings without colors,
 and black marda,
 dogs know their family,
 And dreams reside wherever he is.
 .....
 Once again, my eyes search for dwellings built by its people,
 Of clay burrowed with straw and puffs,
 melted by the flood,
 About walls under which angels without wings were born.
 With pseudonyms like spells,
 I don't know what they were...the names!
 And who was reading spells!
 .....
 I turned back to see...
 A poem from which ascends the incense of frankincense, sandalwood and benzoin wood.
 Loaded with sesame oil,
 coarse speech,
 royal honey,
 Persian raisin,
 peeled hazelnuts,
 dry fish,
 and honest,
 poem like a sky ship,
 bear allies
 and gong and sedge vaccine,
 And the trusted covenant of the hemp ship,
 super sexual ability,
 to do the unthinkable,
 The poem that was written without letters,
 No breaks...
 water poem,
 that has not yet been completed.

 Painting by Amir Khatib