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65 Spring Story Nader Naderpour I said to myself, man dispossessed of your country, why have you turned away from the world? Live in this city of your asylum as if this is your land. Leave your house each night to savor a glass of red wine. In every lane and alley, myriad beauties come and go. Take one of them as lover and imagine that beneath the pale blue sky there is no one but you and her. My heart heard all this and rejuvenated, abandoned despair. I taught my lips to smile, pulled on my clothes and left the house with such joy that my sorrow withdrew in shame. I had taken no more than two steps when an old beggar blocked my way. He was clad in rags and held tight an empty wine bottle in his hands. The spring clouds suddenly began to weep drenching the soil with God’s taintless tears. I saw my own reflection in his eyes: a man like him, dressed in rags. I looked all around, there was no one else, just us, two homeless wanderers one sober, the other drunk. 66 When light broke through the clouds the old man vanished as well. I said to myself, man dispossessed of your country, even your shadow deserts you. Do not leave this eternal exile, for your future is no better than today! What hope can one not blessed in the past, harbor for the future? The twilight was half alive when night arrived. The world wept bitterly inside its smile. Translated by Sholeh Wolpé and Sahba Shayani ...

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