Like burning firewood, I writhe in pain
At the tragic Fate of the pomegranate grain
Whoever attempts their release
From the grip of the shell, membrane and crease
First holds them in a vice-like squeeze
And then when the job is done
Eats them up with relish, one by one
Wasef Bakhtari
Kabul, 1972
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem