The Morning Of Garlic: Poem by Ghazal Ebrahimzade

On Remembrance of days we were not acknowledged enough to health and may not very happy but a routine life we had. Never think to enjoy spring, to enjoy times we are in an assembly, and to enjoy our talking through avoiding extra complaining on trivials.

Corona Days...

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When the birds of spring sang with joy
To hail the blowing breeze pampering the face rapidly with moisturizing coy
When rays of the shine stand very kind to make the life neither hot nor too cold
Life rushes through the mobility of less anxiety or creating abundant tumult
Shining novelty on juvenile tress' robe bestow jubilee to those hurry to work
In confronting the bundle you expect to parole
Life is so lovely what are you feeling for?
- " seems… GARLIC…? "
The most beautified Criollo … ladies of shadow…listen to spring and smooth song of returning swallows
- " sounds GARLIC..? "
Sender of magic rockets to Apollo… ladies of shallow… smell of plant mingled with heavenly blossom of sharp blue, it is a time to define the final intentions supposed to follow…
- " feels GARLIC…? "

Drowsy, numb, with mouths open, shoulders down like zombies out of tomb… who are you? mighty dancers with delicate willow with strong sense of itching on our marrow
- "…ladies of GARLIC…"
Nobody comes, nobody goes, life is so hollow, what it supposed to be full of energy …you talk a lot…just go!
smell strange not from corpses but from walls, earth and ceiling… what is it?
- "….life is …GARLIC…