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Somalia

It dawned on me

Come, come I vomited

Fingers grow out of my eyes in handfuls after handfuls

They whistle, and I ask: Where?

Tassels and hats rain down the sky

I was singing Feed us grass!

It had dawned on me

Voices poured in handfuls on my face

My horse!
Give me my horse!

As much as it looked, did not recognize

Was saying come come all the way from Somalia one night

Come from a forest that’s not evident

Do come, you’re a night higher than the stairs!

I was looking    He didn’t recognize

I said, look, it’s me Somalia

It wasn’t even clear to me if I was my own self

He had fisted his hand

I was saying clench your finger, like this, look

Said, now that fingers are clenched one by one, how one would know if it’s empty?

I said, well, why would one think it’s empty?

His back full    His fist empty
He was running
Said, how would one know?
I said it’s obvious, look there

Pulled his hand out of mine and stood up.

The arrow got right out of my bow and was gone for good

At the side of Sinai, there was the wild revolt of a light in two bowls for a crumpled army

On three flanks, there were three mountains, and on the fourth flank there was nothing, even dirt, except I


Abouzar Karimi
June 2011
Translated by Saghi Ghahraman

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