Friday, November 6, 2009

DEAD-END "Ahmad Shāmlou"

DEAD-END (1980)

They sniff your breath

in case you have uttered
a word of love;

they sniff at your heart

These are the strange times,
my precious.

And love itself is whipped and hanged
at a public crossroads:

better to hide your love
in a cellar.

In the twists and turns of
this cold dead-end
they keep their fires alight
fuelled with songs
and poems;

don't try to think:

these are strange times,
my precious.

He who knocks on the door
at nightfall,
has come to destroy your light:

Better to hide your light
in a cellar.

Look, there are the butchers
guarding the roads,
their axes dipped in blood:

these are strange times,
my precious.

Smiles are sealed onto lips,
songs are stuffed into
gaping mouths:

better to hide your joy
in a cellar.

Canaries are barbecued
of wood-fires of lily
and jasmine:

these are strange times,
my precious.

Lucifer, crazed with victory,
feasts on the fruits of our

better to hide your God,
in a cellar.

"Ahmad Shāmlou; (December 12, 1925 — July 24, 2000) was a Persian poet, writer, and journalist"

Friday, February 6, 2009


To know not what to be?
Could my mind over come what explodes with every heart beat of my earthly soul?
Or am I fooling myself?
The light of the sun brings the illusion of warmth through the frost of the eastern winds...
A tender word brings the fake sensation of safety...

Should I grasp to this moment?
Or should I let go like I always do?
Do I have what it takes to tell what's false or what's true?
Or am I blinded by my memories of darkness, loneliness and never ending cold?

What cheers could this future bring?
When my past and present knew nothing but sorrow and that vague feeling of emptyness...
Hope.. does such a thing exist ?

The old city of Nablus...