Everyone has their own pain.
Afif Bakhtari / First Edition Spring 2020
Part of the book:
How is it, pain of being alive?
It is a unique bitterness
Why a pictureless frame?
There is dust on the mirror
Everyone looks at the mirror
As their own beauty deserves
The shadows come and go
It is cold on the street
Inevitably in such a cold hell
The life is is a wanderer child
A child with a wrinkled forehead
Or is there an old man in the mirror?
Every time I go back to myself
Someone is still calling me “Come back!”
If we have not found a rose,
The gift of love is a yellow leaf…