Another Birth

My life is a dark and lonely verse
sung to carry you into another birth
sung to bring you to a dawn
of eternal growth and bloom
and bind you to the fire and trees and earth.

So it that someone always dies.
So it that someone remains.
So it is that someone always dies.
So it is that someone remains.

It is the size of my loneliness, this room.
It is the size of my love, this heart,
when I look at the flowers
rotting beautifully in a vase
and the sapling tree you planted in our yard.

So it that someone always dies.
So it that someone remains.
So it is that someone always dies.
So it is that someone remains.

But I will plant my hands in the garden
and I will grow, I know, I know
And swallows will lay eggs
in the hollows of my hands
and I will grow, I know, I know

Where is the alley where the little kids loved me?
Do they still hang around with dirty skin?
Do they still think about the smiles
of that innocent little child
who was taken one night by the wind.

So it that someone always dies.
So it that someone remains.
So it is that someone always dies.
So it is that someone remains.

But I will plant my hands in the garden
and I will grow, I know, I know
And swallows will lay eggs
in the hollows of my hands
and I will grow, I know, I know

I know a sad little fairy in the ocean
who plays her heart into a flute on and on.
A fairy who dies
of a kiss every night,
and is born of a kiss every dawn.

So it that someone always dies.
So it that someone remains.
So it is that someone always dies.
So it is that someone remains.

Words and music copyright of Paul Weinfield/Tam Lin Music Publishing (BMI, 2013)
Based on the poem “Another Birth,” by Forough Farrokhzad, translation from Persian by Paul Weinfield (all rights reserved)
(photo by Pavel Titovich)

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