There, all night long
someone inside of my breasts
struggled to breathe, battled to rise up,
and wished, wished you were there
but was held back by a pair
of frozen hands.
There, all night long,
from the gloomy twigs
sorrow rained down, down,
someone was falling, falling apart,
someone was calling, calling for you,
And the air, the heavy air
was collapsing on her
over and over.
My little plant was in love,
in love with the wind, the wandering wind!
Tell me, what is the wind’s address?
Where does the wind go, go
to rest?
Translation: Maryam Dilmaghani, June 2013, from Tehran.
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