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.
