one of these days

Sky is dark of sugarcanes burning, above Khuzestan
Above Tehran, licks its own blood like one wounded dog,
And pours tears on the bloody smoky streets of metropolis.

I miss Azad, hunchback writer, his hands shaky and skinny
His eyes gray and deep, his smile bitter and opiumic
Who is my neighbor, a few dead bodies farther, in this mass grave.

I miss your body odor, sweaty and naked and hellish
And the sky whose thunderous rage, aroused my passion
Daisies came and went short and greenish, and contractors washed off people’s blood before dawn.

One day, I’d plant my balls in the grass around liberty tower, they’ll grow
I’ll become a man, I know, I know, and I will have you once again
The day least of songs is of nakedness, and your body isn’t lying on the street.