The Universe Was Running ….
To keep the startled mouth of the universe open
The streets, without any choice, passed by each other
And with any language I wrote
Again the blood smell
From the morning of your twenty-somethings
And the fire on the lips of my song
Burned in its green flame
So ash turned to memory in my heart.
Is it possible not to die
with a heart that refuses death
in this nowhere country next to a wretched moon?
I am talking to you, breathless garden in a sudden season
you my daughter
And all faces with tears streaming down
Sister of all classmates with empty chairs
Leave those abandoned eyes open
To the night of blood
To the eternity of sky
So poets may know
That you haven’t done anything
But peeked among the happiness of spring and wind and trees
When the eclipse, in the tradition of a thousand years, ate your life
And left you dark
My daughter all those wet faces
Sister of all those classmates with empty chairs
And that voice that does not fit in my burned words.
So let me bury my heart next to your last breath
Maybe one day a poet will write these burned songs
On the ashes of his lips.
by Nosrat Masoudi
translated from Farsi by; Mahnaz Badihian