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!What time is it, Saint Paul

I’ve borrowed three feathers off of you

Scent of a House in NovRooz smells of aged air

The carpet bent its shoulder for you, and
a cavity turned volcano in your spot

It’s alright if you’re sadden by me and
the picture frame shows a little boy that sometimes

Might say it’d rained at some point in these corners

An eye on a day had pictured you from a little closer up

Now, I’m watching from a thousand pores

I balance the sultry in the room with a lake in Minnesota

I sit still for one breath to put your voice in written words

You, a tall figure with three dragons sleeping in you
are like air for breathing

I’ve borrowed three feathers off of you


Abouzar Karimi
Part of the unpublished long poem

Translated by Saghi Ghahraman

 Farsi

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