My translation of a poem by Iranian poet, Forough Farrokhzad.


In Darkness

Amidst darkness I
called for you;
in silence, a breeze
swayed curtains.
In a dismal sky
a star was burning,
a star was leaving,
a star was dying.
I called for you, my existence
a chalice of milk held
between my hands.
The moon’s blue gaze
smashed against glass.
From the city of crickets
a morose melody
surfaced like smoke, slithered
along windows.
All night inside my chest
someone was gasping from despair,
someone was rising,
someone was wanting you;
cold hands pushed her away yet again.
All night sorrow
dripped from black branches;
someone called for you.
The air collapsed unto her
like debris.

My seedling was in love with the wind,
a vagrant wind.
Where is the wind’s home?
Where is the wind’s home?

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