I plowed a bit of earth one day,
Which I had put lilies and wildflowers in galore.
And my garden had a little white-washed fence,
Which I re-painted annually
My garden wasn’t a royal one,
With its homey flowers,
But what had I seen of Paris or Rome?
So I thought it to be very regal.
And I continued plowing and planting each year.
‘Till one fine day, my lover came.
Who made me turn my back on my dear garden.
I saw many splendors and beauties galore, but also of famine, plague, and war
Many a moon had gone before I returned back to my garden,
And to my wonder, I saw my garden still standing,
Not one flower less, not one weed more.
But I was silly and foolish back then and I cried out:
“What are you?
Don’t you know what I have seen?
My heart has soared to the highest of heights and plummeted to the deepest of depths!
I have felt a Mother’s soothing touch after a Father’s painful blow.
How dare you stand unchanged by all that has happened and passed before me?
How dare you defy me?
How come you are still alive? You can’t live without me!”
And I turned my back again, with rage at my side and eyes filled with tears.
I traveled and feasted my eyes on wonderful sights and my mind on great books.
Such a longing was there in my heart to forget what I had done to my poor garden.
For on that fateful day when I had turned my back,
The fence had tumbled to the ground,
Th flowers that had been filled with laughter, dropped to the ground with despair,
And the cracked ground had forgotten about the years of plenty.
The years are many, but they seem so few,
Loyal to my garden my heart still stands,
And I curse myself to this day for what I had done to my garden,
For my garden had been my lover.
-Kiana Baghban
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