DAWN ON THE ROOF AT SABZAZAR Out upon the flat roof, with no ceiling to trap my dreams, I woke in darkness. My dream was real. Argument lapped about me. Rooks were debating the existence of the sun, stamping the branches to make their point. The rising clamour told me they had won, even before the dawn confirmed their victory. Harshly they call and proudly they strut, whose parliament even the sun obeys. Once, like Solomon, I knew the language of the birds. "Not the answer, you idiot, the question!" "Not the pay, you idiot, the work!" "Why do you forget? Why do you forget?" Now the first breath has broken through the trees, sweeping a path from east to west. Down stairs it is time for breakfast.