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Mahmoud Falaki
Poems
Iran
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Translated to English by Manavaz Alexadrian
Umbrella
Rain is falling
I am passing the street with a punctured umbrella
Behind the red light
a woman passes her look from the line in my forehead
and dissolves in the street which has found the shape of rain
with green color.
The rain continues to fall
and the umbrella is no more with me:
It moves yonder,
my umbrella,
with the woman's hands.
Dark Words
From the invisible forehead of the world
a mad man issues
with a big drum
which beats on our imagination
a stone is flapped
which compared to it water and grass
shows our uncouth shape of pain.
I ask not again:
"Why are we born?"
so that fatigue will not pour
from behind the history of the stone
over shining words.
Let's be simple and light,
so that when you turn your eyes from the window,
the window will turn into the form of a song
for a moment when my sky is empty of its blue mood,
and I can learn the reason for my birth
in this manner.
But it is impossible:
in the absence of delightful melody of moon
our nocturnal
leave
my non-accomplished journeys
beside the road
and the window disappears
and I
grow lonely
with stones of fatigue and crooked and dark words.
I hear a sound.
A mad man continues to
beat at our imagination
from the invisible forehead of the world.
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