مردی که غزل میگفت مردی که پر از من بود
دلواپس رفتن نه ، دلواپس ماندن بود
حسی چو مترسک داشت در بودن بی جانش
بر قامت چون چوبش پوشالترین تن بود
از بودن بیهوده «تا بوده همین بوده»
تا رفتن بی برگشت درگیر نبودن بود
فریاد به سر دارد ، بر لب غم خاموشی
همواره سکوتی در ناباور گفتن بود
هی درد پس از درد و هی غصه ویرانی
مثل نخی از سیگار بی تاب کشیدن بود
این مردِ قسم خورده این مرد پر از تردید
دل داشت ولی ماتِ دل را نسپردن بود
مردی که غزل هایش آواز سفر بودند
اما چمدانش پر ، از بغض نرفتن بود
#سعید_خاکسار
@saeed_khaksar58A man who was telling sonnet, a man who was full of me
Not worrying about leaving, it was about staying
He had a manlike feeling in his lifelessness
He was covered with most straw on his wooden body
from to be that is useless "that's always what it's been like"
until the point of no return
He was trapped in not being there
there was scream in his head,
Silent sadness on the lips
Always a silence
disbelief it was to tell
pain after pain and always constant sadness of destruction
like a cigarette
was restless to smoke
This man who had swore
This man full of doubts
He had a heart but
He was confused not to fall in love
man whose sonnet was a travel hymn
But his suitcase was full of hatred,
because he didn't want to go
#Saeed_Khaksar
@saeed_khaksar58Translated by the :
👇👇👇
https://t.me/Poetry_in_the_language