My Heart And The Rain Of Desires¹

Have you left me too, like all the not fully finished
months of a whole year with two black eyes
that are full of long shawls knitted from regrets
and the heaviness of my tears breathing so faraway
from you? What remains except for the dirt
to fill my embrace instead of you?

Have you left me too while my Achillea flowers
experience the autumn of my social thoughts?
Won’t you come? Won't you return
so that in my inured silence
my sorrows of being a woman
- let us be the same as the sun, together,
my thoughts, lilies, and me - are forgotten
in the sorrows of being a woman?

The Tehran-Friday-afternoon wishes are now autumn,
and the Solomon of my cut-heart is the prisoner of my body,
and the ugly dolls of all the divorced poetesses
are hanging from the pearl earrings.

Don't you believe that the ceiling is broken
when I am hammered into its white empty silence,
my breath quiet upon silken white sheets
where you betrayed our passion?

In this nothingness, I want none...

All the plants are skin and bone
where I rest my head upon the dream of your knees,
all the heartbeats are whispers that echo
your name through the wound you have left
falling like the rain of desires
that shower on the anguish of my eyelids.

¹ Version based on Kalbasi’s Farsi poem Delakam va Baran-e Khasteha