English

MY HAIR IS A TRENCH WITH RED TULIPS

My hair is a trench with red tulips

Where a deer has a sense of restlessness

My sufferings are hidden behind it

My screams!

Spiked screams!

Screaming at myself !

Scream!

Become scream!

My deer with its big eyes

Has jumped through tear gas

I throw my scarf towards the night, like a flare

Black inflamed holes of fear

My deer has stopped the armoured ones with its hooves.

The war has reached my bones

I make a trench of my whole body, my beauty

and stone from my tears.

Che Guevara is now every woman

I am Siavash who will go into the fire

We should stand.

The butterflies of my body will be released from the hijab cocoon, tonight

And police fight us with their rods

And weave a net again

They weave nets

Spiders’ house are quivering

No deer dies in a spider’s web

And the me,

This time

Sticking out of myself

I scream: woman! Life! Freedom!

Should make a crossing

Should go through the bullets

Not afraid of the water canon

Oh! Executioner!

For freedom

I will walk on a mine

My hair like steel ivy, will twist into the oppressor’s hands

And a deer will sprig my hair to the pine

Translated by the poet