As a young girl, I loved reading poetry, especially at the end of the day and before going to sleep. Somewhere, in the process of growing up and becoming a full-fledged adult, my poetry readings diminishes to what is now sadly- none at all. I miss it. I miss how reciting a favorite poem would carry me away to another place and time and leave me feeling inspired and uplifted.
When I was about 17, I saved my money to buy what was then a very expensive poetry book: The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam with English and French translations and illustrations by the famous Iranian miniaturist, Hossein Behzad. When I took this precious book out of my library today, I noticed the year of publishing: 1949. Long time ago!