Sunday Becomes Lost Here

/, Blesok no. 84/Sunday Becomes Lost Here

Sunday Becomes Lost Here

I Had No Home
The Boat That Brought Me
Sunday Becomes Lost Here
The Forth

Do I resemble you more?
Or she, whose hands were dedicated to words
And her fingers, stained from the green ink
That would give her secret away?

Do you resemble me more?
Or does she who dialed the numbers
Look like you more
Or me, whose hands were dedicated to words?

Does she who is sitting on this chair
Wearing sheer black stockings
Resemble me more?
Or you, who have run through all streets
With black shoes?

Does the woman who has shaved her head
And is in love with the ward’s doctor
Resemble me more?
Or you, who have turned the mirror?
Which one of us
Me or the third one who has erased her face
Or the forth one
Whose hands were dedicated to the wind?

Translated by Roshanak Bigonah

AuthorAzita Ghahreman
2018-08-21T17:22:49+00:00 July 1st, 2012|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 84|0 Comments