در آینه الفارسية 1448
Dar Āyīnah
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An overwhelming anxiety seized him. He rose and, gripped by fear, ran into the alley, the same old alleyway of his childhood.
There was no one. No one at all. It was as though everyone had departed, leaving only him behind. Terror took hold of him. He had always feared loneliness and being left behind. Desperate, he cried out, “Where are you? Where are you?” But no one answered.
He returned home. His mother's voice came from the kitchen. He hurried toward it. She was sitting in the dim light, dressed in black mourning clothes for his father, blowing gently on the fading fire in the hearth. When she saw him, she lifted her eyes, reddened and glistening from the smoke, and fixed them on him.
“Left behind again, have you? Again? Still left behind, you useless good-for-nothing?”
Her reproach overwhelmed him, and he broke down in bitter tears. Seeking refuge inside the house, he looked into the mirror resting on the mantelpiece. Reflected there was an old man with a rope around his neck. He looked closer. It was himself.
“No... no...”
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اضطراب به جانش افتاد، بلند شد و با ترس به میان کوچه دوید؛ همان کوچه ی قدیمی کودکی هایش...
هیچ کس نبود، هیچ کس
انگار همه کوچ کرده بودند و او جا مانده بود. ترسید، همیشه از تنهایی و جا ماندن میترسید جان به لب شد، و داد زد: «کجایین؟ کجایین؟» کسی جوابش را نداد. به خانه برگشت. صدای مادر از مطبخ می آمد. به سرعت به آنجا رفت مادرش با لباس سیاه عزاداری پدر در تاریکی مطبخ نشسته بود و به آتش نیمه افروخته ی اجاق فوت میکرد. با دیدن او چشم هایش را که از دود آتش قرمز و پرآب شده بودند، به او دوخت
«بازم جا ماندی؟ ها؟ بازم جاماندی بی عرضه ی بیهامال؟»
…از ملامت های او برآشفت و به سختی گریست. به خانه پناه برد و آینه ی سر طاقچه را تماشا کرد تصویر پیرمردی با طنابی بر گردن را در آن دید دقت کرد خودش بود داد زد: نه... نه
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