Thoughts: smoke rings.
Thoughts: clouds. Pile upon pile.
At times winding: curl within curl.
At times unwinding: coil from coil.
Mind: tangle of braids, scarlet, yellow, green, and blue.
Ideas: fingers quivering, tying knots upon knots.
Eyes: tired of perpetual war between darkness and light.
Ears: worn down by perpetual noise and silence.
Heart: porcupine, taken refuge in my breast,
wearing out my body with its spines and restlessness.
Copper wires: molten, running through my body like nerves.
He who advises, endure it, has never experienced their heat.
He who filled my heart with hope like light from beyond the clouds
has pierced my eyes like a spear.
Lies and corruption and the ogre from my childhood’s tales
have escaped their box, and appear now at the window.
The canvas desire painted with all its art is in shreds:
the image did not last the rotting of the linen.
My tongue strays like a broken pen.
My trace dissolves like ink in water.
Simin Behbahani’s English Translations from the book entitled A Cup of Sin Courtesy of Syracuse University Press
