دوشنبه

Hossein Sharang
Translated by jennifer langer and ziba karbassi

For Masud and Abbas
1
There was a word on the tip of my tongue
As I articulated it, my mouth caved in
If I did not utter the word, I would forget my language:
Still caves dawn befor invention of script mourn in me


For Esfandiar Baraheni
2
You are approaching
Attired in this word
The sky tickles the baby’s hand
The bird momentarily
Alights on the speed of stone
Soaking honey bear, hive in its mouth
Gradually tumbles down the mountain
Wind makes up her face on the shoots
Rain combs the air
Valley flooded
A day saturated by events
From you I am brim full.


For Mohsen Shirazi
3
With a fiery mouth
Gorging on ice-cream
The truth
What a dragon.


T o the Blind Nocturnal Owl of New York
4
I was capable of flying
I was unfamiliar with the sky
I am familiar with the sky
Hence I can not fly
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