I am a reclusion in the color of….

By: Akam Kawsari

Translator: Daliya Raouf

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I am a reclusion in the color of whatever is stimulated in skin

Oh, the reddest calm hug

at lonely nights

blue in the color of your dress is like a breath to survive

dream in the softness of your hands

like your lips that are the most poetric color of writing,

stumbling, is measuring desire

your being mysterious is gambling and

lullaby of the night that its spring sleeps in you

your calmness…

– My calmness is a stone on the shoulders of that southern boy who is asleep in my stories

O, girl of north and gambling and putting to sleep

your sleeplessness is a pain and

beyond everything in me that is swelling in your lips’ wrinkles

roll in your suffering and veins

rolling of women and the homeland are vein and wound blood

you are the wound

I am the vein and

at the homeland’s dusk

is there a desire to calmness and sleep

not bloody?

Oh, my kind, I am confused

falling the leaves on autumn and

two steps further

a calm voice on the cheek of a flower

its breath mixed with the wind and

dedicated to a dusk that is sweating alone

in the rosery’s dance

-confused means how much be ceazy about “mim” story and Sherzad Hasan

in me a woman is raining streets

and sleepless within herself 

-It’s dusk here, and how cruelly the windows are melting in me

In my solitude you, yourself and

mingled with your eyes,

at dusk I play the “Hayran”

how dark in your eyes

my Fridays are turning 

oh, the blackest silented scream

In the throught of a depressed night