Without hope – Poem

And with my heart that thumps like a little red rose

I'll bid farewell to my sad things, some night

The stains of ink,

The traces of cold liquor on the sticky oilcloth

The silence of the lengthy nights

And the mosquitoes that suck my blood,

These are my sad things

I’ll go away from them, far away, far away,

Beyond the city sunken in sewers of tuberculosis and smoke

Away from the harlot

Who washes my clothes in the stream

The thousand eyes, in the dark,

Gazing at her bony legs,

Her cold cough, coming subdued and desperate

Through the broken window,

As well as the alley, winding like a rope made of slaves' corpses.

*****

I'll leave them all mercilessly.

And deep inside of me, oh father,

I carry for you an overwhelming

Revolution of a people fighting with dirt, stone and thirst

And many sad mirrors

reflecting a long night

*****

And freezing cold lips eating pebbles, hay and death.

There’s been a while I haven’t seen a shimmering star

nor a dove, fair, cooing in the valley

I no longer drink tea by the mill

While the birds of the pristine mountains

Yearn for my beloved Leila

And long for her gorge as deep as the sea's

I no longer squat the alleys

Wherein the idleness

And the hopeless love on doorsteps.

*****

So, send me a red tile from our rooftops

And a lock of my mother's hair,

She, who cooks you supper under the moonlight,

Wherein the sad neighing

And the up to daybreak wedding ceremonies

In the harvest nights.

Sell my sister's earrings

And send me money,

Oh father to get an inkwell

And a girl in whose lap I would gasp like a child,

To tell you about noontide, yawning, and women thighs,

The still waters, like urine behind the walls,

And the breasts whose sweetness is consumed in the dark.

*****

I stay up late, dad

I don't sleep,

My life is darkness, bondage and waiting.

Give me back my childhood

And my old laughs on the cherry tree

And my sandals hanging on the vine

And I’ll give you my tears, my sweetheart, my poems

For I will go away, oh father.