Dried dead
Lie on the floor with their backs curved
-in sky their legs but not rub the bellies
They are dead and dried
-cockroaches are seen
-here and there
-now, then
They remind me of the mulberry boughs
-fallen from the huge trees
-sawed by the man
-or by winds
They are all brown and in shades,
-lighter ones males, dark, female
They add to flavour of curiosity's spice
-did they have sex?
-did they give birth?
-killed at childbirth?
Then I laugh
-laugh loud,
-laugh very loud
-see me in madhouse
-'You are doubtlessly a poet, crazy!
-and Pound's student
-and Milton's disciple
-and Rumi's and Saadi's and Roudaki's
-and….and…and…
I recall the bombs…as she called them
-set to kill the cockroaches
I laugh
-loud
-louder
-and louder
-'Their legs replace
-the mid-finger, which they do not have…
- they are using the forbidden ‘F' for you as loser…"
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem