destruction

these days
this is how I am - look
my hand, how slowly it moves forward
it looks like I've recited every virgin poem
my foot, with such fatigue it drags me
as if barely moving I've walked from the turn in each road
until under each place
I've even heard
each time the sound of the final shot
ah friend
these days
with everyone with whom I become a friend I feel
we've been such friends that
it's time for betrayal
a mass of sorrow, privacy and self-respect lost
it's been a while that I have no work
like a government minister
when you have no work
you have no purpose
I have no purpose: that is, I'm a poet
even if you don't understand this allusion at all
these days
this is how I am:
like Farhad* who's lost his adze
the beginning of destruction is like this
in this way began the extinction of a dynasty of men
friends
when the sound of the event has faded away
on my gravestone write:
a fighter who didn't fight
but ... lost.

Nosrat Rahmani

* about Farhad and Shirin

Mahshid Nikravesh reading it on Sound Cloud