«Wheat, simply wheat»

Wheat, simply wheat.

Perhaps it leaves behind the scythe,

passes from a single stalk

into the fullness of a harvest,

then under the weight of the millstone,

through water and fire,

becomes bread in a blazing oven—

a piece of life,

dipped by a dervish’s dried hand into water.

A glance toward the sky,

a moment of quiet carved into time.

Or perhaps not—

perhaps it remains in the heart of the earth,

only to rise elsewhere,

in better soil,

among kinder company;

to move, to grow,

to become the light and the green of our Nowruz—

the laughter that follows tears.

A spring reunion,

accompanied by a golden coin,

the sweetness of samanu,

the red shimmer of the fish,

on the white table of peace and friendship.

And this tricolor flag you know—

so that in clearer air,

joyfully, lovingly,

it may reach freedom,

and beauty.

Shariati‑Moghaddam, Ali

25 February 2026