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Elegy for My Mother

 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

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