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Farzaneh Ghavami
Poems
Iran
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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
everyday
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
here
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
see
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
praying
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
children
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
apparent
concealed
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
checked
framed
buckshot
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.
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