She looked at her pier-glass
Nail polishes drying
With half open lids
Her toes were colored once may be
You can get it from the toes
Green
Or pink
I don't know
Maybe red
She cried in her look
What happened to her womanly freshness?!
That says I'm beautiful
I know a woman
Who wears mustache
Do not make fun of her
Where is her womanly freshness?!
That says she is beautiful
That cut her hair
Blue scarves turned black
She cried in her look
Her tears reaching her lips
Starring at the corner
Pink colors were coming
Turning to deer
Green colors were going
Laughing
It had dolphins
It had blue color...
My bin
still has a clockwork doll
Handless
With green eyes
In her white gossamer dress still
singing
Dancing
Still happy
She can be happy
She can fall in love
With other clockwork dolls that sing
That were kids...
What if
I fall in love in the streets
With stared eyes
I will say hello to the passengers
When the trees
Make love too
What if I love you on the same
street with no address
It is said the laughter of maniacs is beautiful
It has simplicity
I have worn my childhood clothes
I'm mad...
She grew up
She dosen't know the walls
She has no mother
And waits to possess a pass anger
Do not make fun of her
Her womanly freshness...
It is said
I don't write poems

میز توالت اش را نگاه می کرد
لاک هایی با دری نیمه باز
که خشک می شدند
شاید می شد از ناخن پایش فهمید
زمانی رنگ داشتند
سبز
...یا صورتی
نمی دانم
...قرمز
در نگاهش گریست
طراوت زنانه اش کو!؟
که می گویند من زیبایم
زنی را می شناسم
سیبیل می گذارد
مسخره اش نکنید
طراوت زنانه اش کو!؟
که می گویند زیباست
که موهایش را بریدند
روسری هایی آبی
مشکی می شوند
در نگاهش گریست
اشک هایش تا گوشه ی لبش می رسیدند
به کنج دیوار که زل می زد
صورتی ها می آمدند
آهو می شدند
سبز ها می رفتند
می خندیدند
دلفین داشت
...آبی داشت
صندوقچه ی من
عروسک کوکی ای را دارد
بی دست
با یک چشم سبز
در لباس سفید توردارش
هنوز می خواند
می رقصد
شاد است
می تواند شاد باشد
عاشق شود
عاشق عروسک های کوکی دیگری
...که آواز خواندند
...بچه بودند
چه می شود که اگر
در کوچه ها عاشق شوم
چشمانم خیره باشد
سلام رهگذری را پاسخ خواهم گفت
وقتی درختان هم
هم آغوشی دارند
چه می شود که اگر
در همان کوچه ای که چشم ها
خوابیده اند
نامم را می پرسی
عاشق تو باشم
نشانی ندارد
که می گویند
خنده های دیوانگان زیباست
سادگی دارد
من
لباس کودکی هایم را
به تن کرده ام
دیوانه ام
بزرگ شد
دیوارها را نمی شناسد
مادر ندارد
و منتظر می ماند
تا رهگذری را مال خود کند
مسخره اش نکنید
...طراوت زنانه اش
که می گویند من شعر نمی گویم

when a boy shows you his hands
bare except for the dust
he’s begging you to look past
take them in yours.
squeeze them once.
twice.
say without speaking
that you understand that the valleys
in his palms were meant to cradle
shooting star wishes
that he’s allowed to still hope for.
when a boy shows you his eyes
of milk and crimson and melanin
a bloodshot vein for every night he can’t sleep
let him shut his eyelids.
say without speaking
that you understand that the black hole pinpricks
of his irises hold more than the universe
should allow.
when a boy shows you his soul
shivering but still working toward friction
iced over but still working toward melting
let him come to rest next to yours.
say without speaking
that you understand that he is lonely
and that his silence speaks volumes
and that you kept his treasure close
because you love him.
when a boy shows you his hands
show him your hands.
when a boy shows you his eyes
show him your eyes.
when a boy shows you his soul
show him that
this is a comfortable place to rest it.
when a boy shows you the hardness that shaped him
show him the softness
that you have in store.

..
in the night to day
love love love-
that may you have gotten
that's why the poetry
yet makes a symmetry
between the life in the lost
in the desert or in the frost
you have never forgotten
the metaphoric cohesions
in the tunes of the flute
or in the dreams of mute
yes life processed some illusions
which may make any creation
love love love-
there is, of course, an inspiration
yet the lonely dream possessions
in the treasures
or in the desert
the mystic mirage why?
otherwise, the dreams to die
in the night to day
from one May to another May
a day remains a day
on another unique day
yet the elusive rose
never grew gray
love love love-
that once you have gotten
you have never forgotten
...
@Musfiq us shaleheen