I am a Muslim
The rose is my Qebleh
The spring my prayer-carpet
The light, my prayer stone
The field my prostrate place
I take ablution with the heartbeat of windows
Moon flows into my prayer, gently it flows
The rock is visible from behind my prayer
All particles of my prayer are illuminated
I pray when the wind calls for prayer
From the cypress tree’s minaret
I practice my ritual when weeds say God is Greater
When wave raises

My Ka’ba is beside the brook`

My Ka’ba is beneath the acacia
My Ka’ba is lid the breeze, blowing from garden to garden from one town to another town

My Black Stone is light of the garden


Sohrab Sepehri