Comments about azadeh Davachi
In The Mourning Of Freedom (Dedicated To The Poeple Of Iran)
The words are suicide
In the magic of the days
Here, some words are missing
We can see mendacity on the roofs
We can light a candle
Cheers for the sound of a baton
What an aggrieved morning!
When the Allah sound of each pray
Becomes the lumbar on each passenger’s throat
What a hard salute!
When the prostration of each alley
Becomes the ablution of its land’s murders
The prisons have the colors of fables
And the terms are colorless in the
Silence of the days.
So many suns
And the night is a fond of ...