In this Blind Alley

They smell your breath_
in case you have said I love you.
They smell your heart.

Strange time it is, my darling.

And love
is whipped
at roadblocks;

Love shall be kept concealed in corners of closets.

In this rough blind alley with twist of cold,
they keep the fire
burning on fuel of
songs and poetries.

Do not risk to think!

Strange time it is, my darling.

He who knocks the doors at nights,
has come to kill the lights;

Light shall be kept concealed in corners of closets.

There, they are the butchers
checking the streets,
holding a cleaver and a plank soaked in blood.

 Strange time it is, my darling.

And they carve a smile your lips,
and a tune on your mouth;

Passion shall be kept concealed in corners of closets.

Canary kebob
on the ashes of Jasmine and Lilly.

Strange time it is, my darling.

The devil drunk with victory
is celebrating our grief;

God shall be kept concealed in corners of closets.

Ahmad Shamlou“In this Blind Alley
A poem by Ahmad Shamlou
Translated by myself (Sina Ghasemi)
First published in Derafsh-e Mehr.
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