Short poems

1

Conversation

I told my sister

Stay away from Kabul’s bazaars

Stay away from town squares

And the areas of high-ranking officials

She told me:

But here, Death is like dust in the air

Even if you close all the windows

Eventually, it gets into your room.

2

پیراهن سرخ به تو می آید

یا تو به پیراهن سرخ؟

شگوفه ها را باد باردار می کند

یا زیبایی تو؟

The red shirt suits you

or do you suit the red shirt?

What pollinates the blossoms?

the wind or your beauty?

3

محبوبم نه اینکه غمهایم بیشمار نیستند

و دستانم تنها نیست

اما عشق تو توانم می دهد

تا برخیزم

در آینه نگاه کنم

و به خیابان شوم.

My love

It’s not that my sorrows are not countless

And my hands are not alone

But your love gives me strength

To look in the mirror

And go for an outing.

4

به دریا که نگاه می کنی

دریا نیز به زیبایی تو نگاه می کند

نزدیکش نشو

می ترسم

به لحظه ای دستانش را باز کند

و تو را با خود ببرد.

When you look at the sea

She too is looking at your beauty

Don’t go close

I’m afraid

For the moment that she will open her arms

And take you away.

5

استرالیا استرالیا

در تو زاده نشدم

و ردّ ِ دستان پدرم بر درختانت نیست

اما تو وطن منی

و امنی

چون آغوش دور ِ مادرم.

Australia, Australia

I wasn’t born in you

And the hand prints of my father

Don’t show on your trees

But you are my homeland

And you are safe

Like my mother’s far embrace.

6

در پستوی هر خانه
کاش دروازه ای بود
به جنگل ِ سکوت
می شد برآمد گاهی
و یک پیاله چای ِ بی غم نوشید
و باز پس آمد
به این پیر ِ پتیاره،
زندگی.

If only in the back room of every house
there was a gateway to a forest of silence
where you could go from time to time
to drink a cup of sorrow-free tea

then come back
to this old shrew,
life.

7

Excuse

Be my excuse tonight

little bird!

If I were God

I would give silence to the night

sorrow to mankind

Moses to the Israelites

and you I would keep for myself

If I were God

I would set you up on Everest.

Be my excuse tonight

little bird

Perhaps I’ll be affected by a melody. 

8

Your Beauty

You are sitting on a step
With your beauty
Your blue shoes
Your red jacket.

The cold?
Stares at your cheeks
Does not even blink
In the laziness of the afternoon
Your beauty is freshly brewed tea
For tired commuters

You have gone
Your beauty is still sitting on the step.

Elyas Alavi and Yusuf Hayat, Exit West, 2020, collage