“Chess” & “The Deceased Garden”
Translated by Siavash Saadlou
Chess
The rain, light-footed, is permeating
through the disproportionate
chess board like a flood.
Under the day’s forbidding fire,
scores of rocks and pawns,
statues of kings, with soggy beards,
are fleeing towards the new moon,
towards the ultimate precipice
of horizons.
The Deceased Garden
In the garden of frosty blooms
moves a childlike crib.
Under the grieving trees
sways an infinite loneliness.
Without frolicking children,
a hundred swings move
with the memory of a song.
In the wind lies a narrative
of the befallen: this wilted
missile-ridden spring...
Where is the future?
However far we tread,
it is but a wobbling bridge
on the brink of days
This garden and its frosty blooms
mirror an unfruitful summer.
Unless the departed child returns,
this swing will keep on dancing
only for the sake of its own heart.
On the school benches
the oasis of death reminds
us of an immortal absence.
