Translated by Abol Froushan
Having not died under kicks and cuffs, I sprang out of sleep
I was shouting at my spouse
though what sleep or even which spouse?
I am dreaming again
Love was the sunlight on the rift of our rafters
and loneliness, the night wanderer wetting the wall at the end of the alley
I am bleary again
She is dying! The madness is dying!
The night had an untouched sky
And ‘I love you’ was always lost in grandma’s stories
she used to take nightly walks in herself with me
The girl died in a bad way, poor thing!
I’m still counting the overhead wires
its birds flown out of your dream
you pointlessly pursue the stone
A finished man
who finished no job and was the eldest son of all the world’s whores
I don’t deny was me!
I am alone with my own hands