Above the hilltops' breathless solitude,
"So moves my love, like these a thing apart,
Fierce, in the ruined temple of my heart,
Shy as a shooting star that peers new-risen
Mid strangers. Even so. Pent in the prison
Of space my soul, a lonely planet, wheels ...
Men call the sum of loneliness 'Ideals.'"
This is the plaint that the cross-road heard
Where it strikes from Kashan to Burujird.
The townsmen, met by the sun-dried stream,