As a child, too you young and too small
I observed lots of things, Esfahan
Once a man on the cart with the tank
Once a man on shoulder shovel, bag
'Who are they and what for? '
I sure asked and reply I forgot
Now I know it was called ‘the Kannas'
Now-a-day when I come out of house
Same smell is stench, I can feel it killing
It's fruit of building's ‘Trash Chutes'
And a man wearing mask is Kannas
'Who are they and what for? '
Old question comes to mind
Then the thoughts
They took it directly mixed with soil
Made fertile
But here comes truck and the men
And so on
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem