Cooked Heads Love Poem!
I have been given a glass
that has the fountain of the sun inside,
a Friend in both worlds, like the fragrance,
of amber inside the fragrance of musk.
My soul-parrot gets excited with sweetness.
Wingbeats, a door opening in the sun.
You’ve seen the market where they sell
cooked heads: that’s what this is,
a way of seeing beyond inner and outer.11
A donkey wanders the sign of Taurus.
Heroes do not stay lined up in ranks
for very long. I set out for Tabriz,
even though my boat is anchored here