{"id":352,"date":"2020-11-08T15:01:07","date_gmt":"2020-11-08T15:01:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/hawcharkh.net\/en\/?p=352"},"modified":"2026-08-11T14:51:38","modified_gmt":"2026-08-11T14:51:38","slug":"three-short-poems-by-parwiz-zabih-gholami","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/hawcharkh.net\/en\/2020\/11\/08\/three-short-poems-by-parwiz-zabih-gholami\/","title":{"rendered":"Three short poems by Parwiz Zabih Gholami"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

by: Parwiz Zabih Gholami<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Translator: Daliya Raouf<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

1.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I came from inside<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I came from inside,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

inside the stones,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

inside the trees,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

inside the birds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The sun stares at me like a dead man<\/p>\n\n\n\n

whom the dogs had found his laughters in the earthquake.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Who knows<\/p>\n\n\n\n

how cruels is outside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My head is a window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And my body is a dark cellar,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

which an alchoholic old man <\/p>\n\n\n\n

settles in, and <\/p>\n\n\n\n

counts his wine bottles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Who knows <\/p>\n\n\n\n

how crule is outside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

2.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The hospital<\/p>\n\n\n\n

they put the crows’ beaks in casts,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

and sew the moon to the window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I lit a cigarette, <\/p>\n\n\n\n

but I am dying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

3.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubbish picking<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sun is a television,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

which is broken and yout put it beside your front door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The birds are dustbin bags,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

which are fulled with the tissue papers after your wepping.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The clouds are old blouse and pants<\/p>\n\n\n\n

that you threw them away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The trees are cigarette ends,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

which their fruits are your lip prints.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Without you nothing is new…<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Without you nothing is new…<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even the time<\/p>\n\n\n\n

is an old homeless man,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

who picks the rubbish <\/p>\n\n\n\n

and sell it to the dead men.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

by: Parwiz Zabih Gholami Translator: Daliya Raouf . 1. I came from inside I came from inside, inside the stones, inside the trees, inside the birds. The sun stares at me like a dead man whom the dogs had found his laughters in the earthquake. Who knows how cruels is outside. My head is a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":73,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"nfd_image_url":"","nfd_onboarding_generated":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[56],"tags":[45,27,26,28,30],"class_list":["post-352","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-other-writers","tag-daliya-raouf","tag-hawcharkh","tag-kurdish-literatur","tag-kurdish-literature","tag-kurdistan"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t