It’s grapes, you said. I said, I see none.
Believe me, you said, I’ll pick you some.
This is the garden of history
and these the vines that bear fruit each year
in great abundance and variety.
You made pretend you were picking grapes.
I said, this isn’t something to joke about.
Close your eyes, you said.
I’ll put one in your mouth.
You’ll see how sweet it is and crisp.
I did as you told me, but ohhhhh…
How it tasted of vomit, salt, and blood.
I spat it out: It was an eyeball
Wrenched from its socket.
It was as if the sky had cracked,
the Earth was rolling like a millstone,
and blood was raining
from the stars and the moon.
You said, it’s just a grape. I screamed no.
I see nothing hanging from these vines
But eyes.
Simin Behbahani’s English Translations from the book entitled A Cup of Sin Courtesy of Syracuse University Press
