Poet: Leila Sadeghi

Translator: Prof. Farzad Sharifian

I tie a thread of thought of mine to …
I sigh in the middle of the road that leads to you
May be rope, grope, or hope?
To what should cling this hand?
When it doesn’t close
When freed is my pupil soul
From behind the distance that doesn’t reach this hand
I grab from your thoughts a knot
Open the lips, not
A word, just one word
Rope, grope, or hope
When the word becomes a cough
Onion that fries, burns and becomes tough
A sigh that is wrapped in bread
Just say one word
Why can’t we have ‘waters’
But we can have ‘breaths’, piled up
When the bubble doesn’t open up
Why doesn’t reach my mind a hand
that would tie a thread of my thoughts to the road that reaches you?

 

 

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