Sat
May
1
Night, It Is
Night it is, full and wet,
the earth has lost its face
the wind, pale as snow
rains down from the hills.
Night it is,
your body warm and smooth,
draped in air. Moist and swollen,
the air stands still, doing nothing.
Is this why the abandoned cannot see?
Its body still warm,
the desert stretches out
like a corpse that awaits
its empty tomb.
My heart, laid out
on this exhausted body
freezing with terrible fever.
Night it is, indeed,
the night.
translated from the Persian poem by Nima
