Claws on the glass pane, knock
Wind, and One Hundred unheard zem zems of Tar
You walk in
With no destiny
With half-eaten bowl of Faloodeh, and
un-prayed prayer on a rag of loneliness
You’re fading away with the wind
And the wind is no more than a sound
With the grandeur of glorious state of exile, and
the click clack of Azrael’s keychain
!Damned be, you’re mocksmiling to the health of ring-leadership of the unpoliced son-of-the-bitches
And lay in bed without falling down
!Wailing with no audience is indeed agony, with no prize
Here, everything underfoot is decayed bone of ancestry
Everything in the head, uncounted crowd of the opposites
domain of the head-less worshiper men.
Would it be the EbbTune of the boneless fish
?Or praises minus devotion sheriff pays to God
Give it up
Don’t bother saying the earth was the spitsmeared domain of whores, the outhouse of the sun
Give it up
Don’t grieve if the Spring again came
without a single leafcloaked treebranch
without a single bitter orange blossom
Let go, laugh if the sky is high, and the earth is low
Give it up let go
Somewhere
Someday
On a day of the days, at the time times… pouff pook pouff porrouk
!Hoot Pirttle Fizzle the Sizzle Caper Cringe Kaw kaw Naught Nada Nod Dada
- Don’t make me bitter with the ice-cold tea one must take a cube of sugar
- Forgive me if I turn my back on you; it’s so you know the handcrafted bone-scale Zanjan knife in your hand will look best in which of the bones
A corpse is a corpse facing up or down
A knife through either side, tears into the heart and into either side, injury is on the front
Now that I’ve walked all through the gloom
Be kind and do not agree to the massive number of yet-to-be composed poetry
Not this ever-burning lamp
Nor that ever-whispering voice
Is a repetition of shades of felicity
Give up the nonstop Pleasant Songs
Here, one mustn’t look for stars in the skies but as a badge on the breast of treacherous peers
When determining the Dawn of Justice and
Our Day of Judgement (and for the others, Day of Dodging), delusional with this chaffy prophecy our share will not even be a handful of lentils or a carton of milk
.
!Hear Ye, You Banu Azrael
Golden Keychain of lottery is right under my pillow
Who cares
Let go
–
Abouzar Karimi
Translated by Saghi Ghahraman
July 31, 2022
Original in Farsi
Visits: 24