You once said I read too much Le Carré
or maybe Guevara, which could be true
but I’m really just a hillbilly at heart
with dreams of going to Chile with you
on a fast boat running guns, but no más
because you, you can dream forever
without ever remembering who I was
lying in your bed somewhere in Argentina
reading Borges, wearing that black beret
you brought with you from Bolivia, sweet
Olivia, daydreaming of nights with Che.

I will make a balloon for you...
My sister's eyes are smiling
Knowing you in all the rays of the sun
Being alive with you all the times
Giving me flight to the blue skies
with smiling jasmine flowers
with the whiteness of dandelions
and the rainbow of my sister's laughter
How people are more beautiful, there
I will make a balloon for you...
Putting on children's clothes,
We steal all the tears and smiles from them
I'm dreaming,
My sister
falling on the ground
from my father's and mother's hands
Running to her...
Cleaning the dust on her hat and dress
Taking her hands
Walking together
Finding her small hands
in the darkness of my heart, like a light
I'm crying,
Traveling, back to the past
Telling her : you don't know how much
you've grown up now!!!
A time that cannot be repeated anymore...
Friday morning,
Waking up with tears
I'm dreaming...
Siting alongside the flowers with you
I can kiss your lips for the first time
Your eyes are innocent till now, ''my God of jasmine flowers''
I love you
I love you
I love you
Giving your kind heart to God
and never leave you alone
Remembering a beautiful girl
Having black hair
in the scorching evenings of summer
wearing golden earrings
Siting on all the unhappy bicycles and
Making love to them
Not having the warmth of your eyes,''God of jasmine flower''
My mother, laughing at your hands
I love the song of birds...
I will make a balloon for you
under the shadow of the trees
which I've made my house
Somewhere that I've drawn eyes
Now, I'm seeing white clouds, round
Please, do not take pencil and paper from me...

...بادبادکی برایت خواهم ساخت
چشمان خواهرم خندیده اند
در تمام اشعه های خورشید
تو را می شناسم
در تمام زمان ها
با تو زنده خواهم بود
مرا به سوی آسمان های آبی پرواز بدهید
با گل های شاد یاسمن
با سفیدی قاصدک ها
...و رنگین کمان خنده های خواهرم
چقدر آدم ها آن جا زیباترند
...بادبادکی برای تو خواهم ساخت
لباس های کودکانه به تن می کنم
تمام اشک ها و لبخندهایشان را دزدیده ایم
خواب می بینم
خواهرم
از دست پدرومادرم
به زمین می خورد
من به سمت او دویده ام
خاک های روی کلاه و لباسش را پاک می کنم
دست هایش را گرفتم
با هم راه می رویم
دست های کوچکش مانند نور
در تاریکی قلبم پیدا می شوند
...دارم گریه می کنم
به زمان گذشته سفر کرده بودم
به او گفتم : تو نمی دانی
!!! الآن چقدر بزرگ شده ای
...زمانی که دیگر تکرار نمی شود
صبح جمعه
...با گریه از خواب می پرم
خواب می بینم
با تو در کنار گل ها نشسته ام
دیگر می توانم برای اولین بار
لب های تو را ببوسم
چشم هایت تاکنون معصوم بوده اند
'' خدای همیشه گل یاسمن من''
دوستت دارم
دوستت دارم
دوستت دارم
من قلب مهربان تو را به خدا می سپارم
و هیچوقت تنهایت نمی گذارم
دختری زیبا را به خاطر بیاور
که موهایی مشکی دارد
در عصرهای گرم تابستان
با گوشواره های طلایی در گوشش
روی تمام دوچرخه های ناراحت می نشیند
و هم آغوشی می کند
گرمای چشم های تو را ندارد
''خدای گل یاسمن''
مادرم به دست های تو می خندد
...صدای پرنده ها را دوست دارم
...بادبادکی خواهم ساخت
زیر سایه ی درختانی که خانه ام را ساخته ام
جایی که چشم ها را نقاشی کشیده ام
...دیگر ابرهای سفید را گرد می بینم
خواهش می کنم
مداد و کاغذم را از من نگیرید

Finding my way
to the flowers again

To where snow drops
pierce the icy crust
to bud their hearts out
and crocuses stand their ground
against winter's sure retreat  

Sparrows quarrel in the bushes
venturing out to test their cheeps
in rediscovery of a brilliant afternoon

The sun leans long against the house now
an unassuming warmth extending day
Joins the world of dripping
snow gives up its grip on eves
tumbling headlong
clumps from trees

green palms
exploding open
effortless
and concentric

spirograms
or feeling tissue
lifting an eye
to heat

Green goomba backpacks,
Extended busses,
The kids only ride one stop,
Folk music in my headphones,
Playing with the hopeful heat,
Of rainy day rides.
Where are we going?
On the one driving the bus knows,
And even they have their stop.
Societal soliloqal differences,
But here we are,
Cultural clashes melt away,
With,
"You can have my seat."
Falling into souls with just sideways glances,
Cases of, "what did you want to be when you grow up?"
****,
What did I want to be?
A longing nostalgia of places in memories that never existed,
Luckily,
The bus has no rearview mirrors.
Phoenix is grey,
So is Reno too,
Hawaii had it's days,
All have their riders,
And their drivers,
The stop is requested,
But I don't need to get off.

Sunsets hidden behind palm trees,
Breaks in buildings,
Give the blinders and spot,
To stop today,
And begin tomorrow,
Street light stunts,
Neighbors with smiles of strangers,
Strained,
Just trying to get that bit of change,
Rushed hours turn off light switches,
To rush hour,
Cant get through it quick enough,
We're trying, but it's rough,
Battles brushed off by that alarm clock,
Watching the sunrise with stills of cameras,
That we're coloring in the blank edges,
Knees hurting and the same song sang loudly, on
Repeat,
The street lights turning off,
Like the memory of catastrophes,
That had turned on last week,
We enjoy the breaks,
And the sunset.