FROM IRAN: 7 POEMS BY HESSAMEDIN SHEIKHI (B. 1990) TRANSLATED BY SHERRY(SHOHREH) LAICI

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Hessamedin Sheikhi, journalist and poet, Iran. Trans. Sherry (Shohreh) Laici

***

I could write about the citrus,

the smell of lemon,

the bitter taste of pomegranate,

but I would like to write about rare words,

such as you.

*

The farms are burning!

They grew tall, magnificent wheat

Which wasn’t feeding the children.

*

Time brings slow ruin,

But this lonely ruin

Is me—ruined by war in a day.

*

I’m grandfather’s watch—since he died, sitting alone

Since you left.

*

Do you look fondly upon this leaf?

Finally, finally, I am changed!

*

Life is nothing but the profit

From long term deposits.

Give me your hands.

*

If we could hear

Soldiers reading out loud letters

Sent by those who love them,

War would end.

 

 

 

 

 

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3 Comments

  1. bmaat said,

    November 25, 2016 at 2:58 pm

    a deft arrow, slender and irrefutable

    • thomasbrady said,

      November 25, 2016 at 5:19 pm

      Thank you. Yes, we think these poems by this young Iranian are lucid and remarkable and moving. But you’ve put it better. And thanks also to Shohreh Laici for bringing them to us.

  2. Mr. Woo said,

    November 25, 2016 at 8:15 pm

    “Life is nothing but the profit

    From long term deposits.

    Give me your hands.”

    A deft arrow, indeed.

    This makes me want to grab the nearest stranger, kiss them on the forehead, and say, “thank you.”


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