June 2, 2011

 

The evening of a memorial

I’m sitting near the window
and smoke…
Down there on the footpath
Street-cleaner rubs off
the dirty face of the street
in the evening of a memorial

It’s quiet,
even the sound of sweeping
doesn’t come to ear

At the other side of the street
two policeman taking a way
a youth with wounded face
handcuffs on hand
to the executing square

Hundred meters away
at the lovers curve
kisses a girl her boyfriend
in the dark
away from the eyes of
father and brother

And a kid with Hafez Lot in hand
Passing under my window

 

Mahyar Faravardeh
2006

 

 

 

The melody of life

Her eyes

Persian poems

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