We had to soak a bowl of wheat or lentil
And swaddle them in a wet cloth for a week
And spread those sprouted grains of wheat in a
Beautifully shaped dish and let them grow to a weed
Then we would make little colored figurines
To represent us, so they could sit atop grass wheat
Then mother will go to “Charbagh” bazaar and buy
Beautiful little red fish to represent life
On the table we had hyacinth to freshen the room
Then came time to color eggs in those little pots
My mother would never forget to put
Open-paged Hafiz, on her chosen ghazal
While reciting the lines
Mother told us never sleep with old clothes
The night before uncle Norouz is coming
We were seven little dwarfs then
At the 13th day of Norouz
We had to throw those planted grains
In any river or running water we could see
To have old, sad roots taken away from us
