Sunday, January 22
THESE NOTHINGS
He’d been puzzled by his own “nothings”
He’d been encircled by these nothings
Butterfly-like nothings Swallow-like nothings
Snowy nothings by which the schools don’t get closed
She was entirely nothing when I first saw her
Entirely nothing Is better than nothing
The time she saw me, she didn’t abscond
But bet on nothing,
He lost so much that whatever he won
It was merely nothing
He’s been encircled by these nothings
He won so much that whatever he lost
It was merely nothing
Afterwards
He didn’t lock himself in the room
Swallows would come would go
The wet words would get naked get cold
The nothings were making love with each other
I bid them to fling me into desert into sea
And the nothings were making love with each other.
(Ali Babachahi,
translated from Farsi by Marjan Modarres Sabzevari)