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Translated to English by Manavaz Alexadrian
Spring's Station
At the last station the spring
whistles
and the trumpets of the sun
is filled with the melodies of the world;
ah
O land of excitement and love!
my heart breaks at the intersection of your bitter eyes.
As long as a star
shines on my existence
I will sing.
The water flows,
with the color of rain,
with the color of the Milky Way of the universe,
not like the color of chain,
and thus
circling and opening
begins.
I wash your shirt of fatigue
under the moonlight
and with a packs-saddle of rain and kiss
I teach your wings to fly....
Sleep stretches its wet tongue
on the pale stalk of the wheat.
the bread
must be coined
like human crescents
around heads
which have lined up
at night.
Your satin cheek
has grown
on my nonsense.
One bastion of word
is enough for me.
When you
shut your eyes
you nullify my existence
and I
in the end
think of the strangeness of my hands
and eyes.
The spreading perfumes
tempt
the warm space
and spring
whistles
at the last station.
The Trace of a Star
With tresses made of moss
and a breath made of ivy and smoke
I bend
on the fire,
and with big promises
I discharge my obligation.
a slave and undecided
on the bush thorns biting tongues
I burn
and ponder
on the difficulty of words.
I seek my body
within the recollection of the river
and in the depth of my empty eyes
I seek the trace of a star
and my hands
melt
with a cold sigh.
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