Farzaneh Ghavami

Research: Iran

Farzaneh Ghavami

Literature: Poems of Iranian Poet, Farzaneh Ghavamy
I Am One of Shahrzads, The Disturbed
Dreaming your tale, all the night, till the day, while awake
I am one of Shahrzads, the disturbed, as I told;

I cannot drop off, till tales are left
the just gathered crickets, dancing by the window
I cannot drop off.

I inquire the butterfly crosses on my notebook
about a sovereign, who nobody
took an auth to let the flowers woe, tattooed on all butterfly wings.

Tonight, fountains deliver stars
with placenta around the neck of the pool
and the ivy clanged on the wall
and the dance of the crickets unties them.

I still inquire about
the cross-shaped butterflies on the window

I am one of Shahrzads, the disturbed, as I told
all dreams tattooed on my eyes.
Seasons Clothing
This street
has the spirit of May deeply
and the shops
are so early dressed in seasons clothing
neither feel the warmth of the woolen coats
nor thrilled in the sleeveless clothes
Like me
every new year, present, with the repetition of my clothing
not feeling cold, not warm either
But, this street
has its own mood
some days eats ice-cream
the other day, a hot drink
so that slides on the ice
with wheelbarrows, changing color
so that remain fresh
And a sidewalk that in all afternoons
smells like cigarette
Like you
that in the spirit of May
your hands still smell like stale cigarette
you look after me
Perhaps, I slip on the ice
not sure yet.
Dead Cains
I still love apple ; as my mother did
I like to run around the paradise hills up to
the grain land of unduly sins; barefoot
the snakes dream their non-seen arms and legs
and me
dream the indemnity of uneaten apples
tell me ; where have you my heavens?
behind the Adam tears ; Cain is dead 
and the following goods were all Abeles
holding up their faces ; not looking at me
I smell like grain as unduly sins
and me 
behind the dead Cains 
say my prayers
the snakes creeping up to my ears
and a necklace of rotten apples slide down 
to my feet
tell me ; where have you my heavens ?
the following goods 
as Cain 
as my mother
as the lovers
demand some uneaten apples.
The Dark Dream
The night smells like nightmare
and the bus
bare and fast
wakes the dark dream of street
and the open mouths have their eyes
fasten on the end of way

a man with his suitcase beyond the 
the death and howl.

a woman becomes expectant by her
and delivers her premature children
in her torn sleeve.

you; the nightmare traveler! 
tell me ; where can buy orange flowers?
I have just arrived
I need orange flowers for my premature 
you; the nightmare traveler!
my mouth open
my eyes fasten on the end of way
but still
you with a suitcase; full of death and howl
go beyond the nightmare and fever.

the bus
bare and fast 
walks on my dreams.
A Handful of Dots
A memory of vertical lines 
crosses a horizon less crossword

someone dies in just a few minutes
out of memory
only a bangle remains of me
a cryptic pendant
vertical lines with a handful of dots

me; offended of my demy selves
in the mirror 
in the mirror 
and such a small remedy 
the same as things you said.

A cryptic pendant 
below the vertical lines.
the distance approaches the most
the accident was just in a few minutes 
and died 
was the crossword that horizon? which hit its head or not?
then it s stared white eyes 
ripped in the horizon.
and you will rip up
you think you are so you rip up
only a bangle remains of me 

I keep a loaf 
the nearest 
a sense of cry
till small bones be crushed.
only of me 
the nearest 
when a small distance or question
the same as things you said.

Research: Iranian Contemporary Poems


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