Hell Of A Lady Poem by jalal korozhdehi

Hell of a lady

I chase you with a stagerring mind but
you pass me with damn twister of your tress of hair inscrutably
Ring in me sudden to rush for produce you up a rightful blossoms.
Grow them and pick finest to pin on your tress.

Hell of a lady

months have passed now.
i've grown blossoms nice, nurse them trice.
but when i try to feast them with a colored mirror in an autumnal day
to bestow upon them more sunshine, timidly notice
all them became youth Narcissuses,
Demanding me to pick them for tress.
While i try to touch them i saw myself
pined away in a transformed image of a repeating melancholy.
then i saw previous me watching and wearing a frozen smile
carrying that now black mirror in hand and direct rays of sun
onto me, try to fade me away.

Hell of a lady

Now, day by day i try to gather those previous me,
but all these blossoms became drops of lament,
order and disorder an image on a pond.