Muddy Boots
in memory of Hossein Okhovat-Moqaddam

I wash my old hiking boots
And with the tip of my finger
Brush their muddy treads.

Oh, Dried mud!
From which land do you come?
And the memory of which flower
Has made you so fragrant?

The shining treads smile at me
In the sun.

Majid Naficy
March 7, 1987