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January 28, 2025

“Madness of Cycles – A Poem by Mohammad Mehdi Pour”

کن

“Make peace with Ismail and the bitter sugar canes of southern Ismail Batum.” می کند

They don’t realize when the meat takes its own shape.

The wind whispers in the ears of the abandoned nest.

Blind madness of the ages with repeated hands in grasping.

They will hit the air fiercely as they cut through it.

Heavy is the hand that is constantly present, Ismail, put your hand up.

You were lifting up your wishes, they were being thrown like stars.

They had escaped their crossing in a curved shape. ستاره هایی که در آسمان درخشانند

The crescent-shaped flights, standing on shoulders, and the stars shining in the sky. زمین

The bitter taste of this blood that has been spilled on the ground. نه

The scattered table on the interrogation desk and also the old room.

He has fallen unconscious between you and them.

They confessed to their own sins. ها

The clenched fists on the teeth confessed to the nails. قلب

“Tightness in the chest and blood passing through the middle of the heart” می‌زنم

I have been hitting this left tooth with wood for years.

They link the ironwood trees standing in the shade. می دهد

The sound of diesel engines and the noise of raising the steering wheel. ای او گرما می آورم

It’s cold. Ismael is cold and I bring warmth for him.

I take the melancholic eyes to paths of desire. هایشان در می آید

Their legs are bruised and there are marks on their bones.

They make the shape of the feet green like wheat.

It avoids the eyes in a continuous passing manner, cold. ها

Ismael is far away, but the fires are bright and the darkness is deep.

The embrace has become so tight that no head can pass through. را می کند

Nothing brings life tomorrow, but the wind’s caress of the almond trees. ها

Let all the red branches of the bright earth light up, all the deserts.

I will go on my hands and feet.

I want those that rise tall like a fist. ه

I speak the letter Ismail, but the letter I speak is that tooth.

The birds fly between me and our words.

They fly between me and the bread, they fly above.

How far do the stems of sugar canes go?

I do not know, Ismail, how far these lines will take us.

I plan each day to continue until the sun sets.

“Let us be illuminated in the form of vertical beams of light and strings.”

The one who throws the rain is cold, Ismail. خاطر ترک تنهایی

And laughter will escape our open mouths as we leave, due to leaving loneliness behind.

The picture is taken outside and framed.

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October 23, 2019

Ismaeil Bakhsi Mohammad Mehdi Pour Number 101 Poetry Sugar Seven Hills پیمان صلح ماهنامه خط صلح ماهنامه خط صلح