I found the inheritance of my father's
horse,
a horse with a mane, a hat with a flower,
a rifle, a Shamkhal rifle ,
a book of stories of the prophets
; the traces of his horse's hoofs in the desert, his
helmet under the bushes, the sand of
his gun in the museum, and his
book in the mosque .
I looked from the top of the mountains . It had reached me by word of mouth . But my legacy is many stars on my shoulder, colorful from the desert, some beautiful medals from the plains and golden trophies from the mountains, soldiers sleeping in the cemetery of geography, and actors in the show, have and have not, an essay full of feelings , trees that bloom in the cold , and the journey The village beyond the gypsies, next to my hometown behind the clouds on the Shiva lake, my beautiful and colorful pillow from the snow, with the cold scent of the palm leaf, from the wild dog, from the Baluch natural grove, from the pomegranate grove of the people of Oramanat, from the pistachio field of Kerman, from the castle . With the glory of ancient Herat, on a boat in the Tigris and on the captain's lunch in Jask, what is my inheritance? A wealth of precious stones?! Or a travelogue, maybe a few pieces of paper, I think: real estate and a few airplanes, but I don't know. Our heritage is memory , Baba's relic; it is thought; it is the root where the sun is beloved and the fire gives warmth. A land that is the place of birth and whose rain is crystal clear and whose spring is salty Hassan Sadeghi Younesi*** (Geography )