ﻣﻦ ﻫﻢ ﻣﯽﺗﻮﺍﻧﺴﺘﻢ ﺣﺮﻑﻫﺎﯾﯽ ﺑﻪ ﺑﺰﺭﮔﯽِ ﻧﻮﺑﻞ ﺑﺰﻧﻢ
ﻭ ﺁﻥﻗﺪﺭ ﺷﺎﻋﺮ ﺑﻮﺩﻡ ﻛﻪ ﺑﺘﻮﺍﻧﻢ
ﺩﺭ ﻛﺎﻓﻪﻫﺎﯼ ﺳﯿﮕﺎﺭ ﻣﻤﻨﻮﻉ ﺑﻨﺸﯿﻨﻢ
ﻭ ﺑﺎ ﺗﺮﺍﻧﻪﻫﺎﯼ ﺳﻮﺯﻧﺎﻙ ﺩﻝ ﺍﺯ ﺩﺧﺘﺮﺍﻥِ ﻧﻮﺟﻮﺍﻥ ﺑﺒﺮﻡ
ﺍﻣﺎ ﺧﻮﺍﺳﺘﻢ ﻭﺻﻠﻪﯾﯽ ﺷﻮﻡ ﺑﺮ ﭘﯿﺮﺍﻫﻦِ ﭘﺎﺭﻩﯼ ﺗﻮ،
ﭘﺴﺮﻙِ ﺳﺮﻣﺎﺧﻮﺭﺩﻩﯼ ﭘﺸﺖِ ﭼﺮﺍﻍ ﻗﺮﻣﺰ
ﻛﻪ ﺩﻋﺎﻫﺎﯼ ﺿﺪِ ﺁﺑﺖ ﺭﺍ ﺣﺮﺍﺝ ﻛﺮﺩﻩﯾﯽ !
ﺧﻮﺍﺳﺘﻢ ﺍﻟﻨﮕﻮﯾﯽ ﭘﻼﺳﺘﯿﻜﯽ ﺑﺎﺷﻢ
ﺑﺮ ﺩﺳﺘﺎﻥِ ﺧﻮﺍﻫﺮﺕ
ﯾﺎ ﺩﺳﺘﻤﺎﻟﯽ ﻛﻪ
ﻋﺮﻕ ﺍﺯ ﭘﯿﺸﺎﻧﯽِ ﭘﺪﺭﺕ ﺑﮕﯿﺮﺩ
ﻭﻗﺘﯽ ﺳﺮﺑﺎﻻﯾﯽِ ﺭﺍﻩِ ﻛﺎﺭﺧﺎﻧﻪ ﺭﺍ ﺑﺎﻻ ﻣﯽﺭﻭﺩ،
ﺧﻮﺍﺳﺘﻢ ﻫﯿﺰﻣﯽ ﺩﺭ ﺑﺨﺎﺭﯼِ ﭼﭙﺮِ ﺷﻤﺎ ﺑﺎﺷﻢ
ﺗﺎ ﺭﻣﺎﺗﯿﺴﻢ ﺍﺯ ﭘﺎﯼ ﻣﺎﺩﺭﺕ ﺑﻪ ﻗﻠﺒﺶ ﻧﺨﺰﺩ
ﺍﯾﻦ ﻫﻤﻪ ﺭﺍ ﺧﻮﺍﺳﺘﻢ ﻭ
ﻧﺘﻮﺍﻧﺴﺘﻢ ...
ﻛﺎﺵ ﺟﻬﺎﻥ ﺑﻪ ﻗﺸﻨﮕﯽِ ﺑﺎﻝِ ﭘﺮﻭﺍﻧﻪ ﺑﻮﺩ
ﺗﺎ ﺷﻌﺮ ﺍﺯ ﻭﺍﮊﻩﻫﺎﯼ ﺗﺎﺭﯾﻚ ﺗﻬﯽ ﻣﯽﺷﺪ
ﺍﻣﺎ ﻭﻗﺘﯽ ﭘﺪﺭﺑﺰﺭﮒ ﺩﺭ ﺟﻮﺍﻧﯽ
ﺩﻧﺪﺍﻥﻫﺎﯾﺶ ﺭﺍ ﺑﻪ ﺩﻧﺪﺍﻥﺳﺎﺯﯼ ﻃﻤﺎﻉ ﻣﯽﻓﺮﻭﺷﺪ
ﻭ ﮔﯿﺲﻫﺎﯼ ﻣﺎﺩﺭﺑﺰﺭﮒ ﯾﻚ ﺷﺒﻪ ﺳﻔﯿﺪ ﻣﯽﺷﻮﻧﺪ
ﺩﯾﮕﺮ ﭼﻪﮔﻮﻧﻪ ﻣﯽﺷﻮﺩ ﮔﻔﺖ :
ﺯﻧﺪﻩﮔﯽ ﺭﺳﻢِ ﺧﻮﺵﺁﯾﻨﺪﯼﺳﺖ؟