The bird chirped: What sunshine!
Ah, what aroma! Spring has come
and I must seek my mate...

The bird unfolded off the ledge
into the air like a flown message.

The bird was small.
The bird was foolish.
The bird didn't read the papers.
The bird had no debts.
The bird didn't know people.

The bird in the air
high above the red lights
joyfully soared in oblivion,
deliriously lived the sky's blue moments.

The bird,
        ah,
           was just a bird.

Forugh Farrokhzad