Today Your Face

Today your face is lovelier than any day before, and your sweet lips are more delightful than my very soul. The sick, drooping look in your eyes, that drinks blood all day long, today even a fragment of it is sweeter than every other day. My heart welcomes the reaching touch of your curling hair, and the veil torn by your heart piercing glance is sweeter still. I begged you to give back my wounded heart, and you mocked me: 'Keep it. The ache you carry gets sweeter for you every day.' I am better off with the pain of your love, for even the candle is at its finest with tears in its eyes and a burning flame. Though your temper toward me is never quite kind, after all, the gossip that teaches me pain is still sweet to hear. Gazing at your face and drinking wine in your memory is always sweet, and in the season of Nowruz sweeter yet.