Fart in desert
Poems and I
Two branches of the same tree?
Two trees of the same seed?
Two lakes under the same moon?
Or?
I was born in the birth place of poetry…
Persia…
Khayyam…
Hafez…
And Shamloo…
They are stars that make the galaxy
They are lights on the roads
They are peaks to hope
Saadi is, humanity,
Love and care.
Now being addict
I feel some daggers
In my heart and mind
What are these nonsenses?
There is no rhyme, no meter
Worst is having no meaning but
A pretentious claim to being poet
And still I read these junks, so many
Include my own stinking farts in desert…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I understand completely. I often sense the foul odor of what I write and wish for a breath of fresh air