Hassan Najmi

The corpse about which we know nothing
The corpse, which came from the past and went ahead of us
The corpse, which we call for
...

I am not less blind than you.
Like you, I know how to step
although my eyes are not completely dead
although the flow of light is plentiful
...

He was in utter solitude
and had nothing but words
He was one.
...

I dust my mornings,
arrange the nights in the closet.
And because there must be a taste of a woman,
I remember you a bit and slip into my cold bed.
...

I seek a safe place
For my mother's scent
And I hide the rose in my blood.
...

Roses side by side .
They do not speak to each other .
And these seasons alternate over my body,
...

Nothing remains:
only the wound of memory.
And the meeting place,
The smell of the paper of used books.
...

In the neighbourhood bar
I saw my shadow drinking
a glass of wine.
...

On a rainy night she stood crying.
Like defenseless rain she wept.
I did not lift my eyes from the book.
...

In the light of your eyes
no light can save me except the lamp of my body.
With which legs can I join your dance
while all my body's flutes are dumb?
...

Their palms are coffins
and their heads are hats for distant clouds.
And behind them there is time
...