My Sister Chaneh
On the green grass,
behind the high mountain,
my sister Chaneh wanders around.
I call her in the nights -
sister mine, come!
She does not answer,
the chestnut trees rustle.
On a cool cloud,
in a blue ship,
my sister Chaneh sails around.
I call her in the days -
sister mine, wait!
She does not answer -
and sails away.
But often the mirror weeps.
I look deeply into it,
into the sad eyes
of my sister Chaneh.
Her hair is gray now.
No, that is ash,
white, gray ash
of my sister Chaneh.
Translated by Barnett Zumoff
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