English

A KAFKIAN NIGHT

The sky tilted

and the earth held back a little,

from its axis

to look at the roof,

where my head and neck were stuck,

after being plucked off my shoulders

And, why my fingers were slithering like snakes, hidden in the grass.

I glanced at myself

I was neither inside the room, nor outside

Apart rom a certain feeling that doesn’t have a profile,

I could see the two parts of the body, divided longitudinally

swinging left and right,

like Zahhak’s serpent

There was no trace of sun or moon in the room

And stars were chatting

lined up in front of a black hole

waiting for their turn

I wanted to tell them

Look, blood is dripping on the bed from my neck

I have lost my speech

Kafka’s snores are echoing on my bed,

amid a circle of sorcerers

But their bodies’ geometry is without an auditory angle

I was nowhere

Neither inside, nor out

And regarding my identity,

whispers were quivering,

like candles’ fliker on the roof

I wanted to see my head

after pulling it off the ceiling

I wanted to see

Where were you

Your soft and warm touch,

the touch that had saved the sky from it’s tilt

But the dawn was still far away

and, on my bed

Kafka was dozing inside a dead earthworm!!!

SIESTA

Facing a burst of colors,

in the dazzling sun of the afternoon,

eyes of the marble rock

were blinking

The lips of earth were verdant

with bouncing greenery

In the thick green wilderness,

over the bust of the valley,

a waterfall was embracing

the surging river

Birds were nestling,

dozing off,

on each others’ bosoms

And I,

I was wandering,

hurtling along,

in a dazed ecstasy

between the two hills

covered with flowers

 THE GIBBERISH OF A HEEL-RUBBING DREAM

This is the time
This is the time my friend
to clean up this walkway,
that connects my body and soul
This is the time
Now that the seven-headed horses
have strayed off,
galloping, clip clopping
in some other direction
Now that the surge of fire,
gushing, swooshing,
wrapping all four dimensions in itself,
has dissolved somewhere
The shadow of the ghost is motionless,
holding the green and white inside its blackness.
Between the songs of forgotten love,
the mark of embalmed fairies
is apparently lost in the emptiness of time,
like everything else.
And my heart is beating,
thumping hard
I can differentiate between sounds
Somewhere, an arc is cracking
This is the time
This is the time my friend
Be with me
Help those steps,
even whose footfall is forbidden,
on this walkway,
to clean it up