I hear God’s promise of forgiveness in the babbling wine.

From the rubab, I hear the clang of Paradise’s gate.

This is the difference when we hear:

you hear the door closing, I hear it opening.

There was a nearly suffocating smell: smell of old walls, it struck me like the melodies that resurrect in the heart the deepest memories. You know: on that sofa I wept so much when I knew you wouldn’t come back. And today, in the doorway, my soul of that time took hold of me; in an instant my entire past returned. . .

Now she can’t do anything anymore, so, when I visit her, I tell her to prepare the salad, just to kill time. She peels away the bad leaves, and I tell her, “Throw them away and leave the good ones.” She starts, but then she forgets, so we eat the rotten salad and we mix it with curcuma and balsamic vinaigrette to cover the bad taste.[…]

Blame me not, but society, morals, laws, and customs Your mother as a pioneer was a martyr of destiny Someday you may come as ambassadors to Paris Find my grave, leave one flower for me[…]

[translated poetry] Before Spring A strange sound wakes you. Your heart? Your stomach? Just the pipes. Two-thirty in the morning. A pale lane of light pollution looms between the high rises on the horizon. Above it, a thin strip of sky. Like clumps of minerals in a newly discovered mining cavity, dim stars shine. The […]

[translated fiction] Dime-a-dozen, fair-weather friends—the ones you met to do nothing but sit around, drink beer, and gab. The night we hung out was of the same kind. On one side of the booth sat men who wanted a one night stand. None of the ladies on the other side were seeking Mr. Right, either. […]