Autumn scattered

drive me home

fade me away
take me to the northern lights

or to the eastern grass,

from the lonely lands

to the bitter sands..

drive me home
on wheels of hope

that buries my hands

Nothing but more than November

Nothing but November

Nothing but November

Three dots...

.......


No bird,

had ever guided me

to the depth of this land:

I grew,

by myself,

from the gloom of this earth, like a wild flower,

next to the filthy mud of a slim river,

forever devoid of gardener.

And it is so that some,

are such regarding me:

“He lives off-

our belongings and  earnings.

And he dares breathing, exhaling-

the malodorous air of his breath

in the pure air of our field.”

Except that,

the truth, the fact is

when they disembarked in this land,

the one who received them

with wide open arms,

with open arms,

was I.

Translation: Maryam Dilmaghani

The poem "..."  was first published in The Dirges of The Earth (Marsieyeh-haye Khak), 1969 Tehran.

scream shot

kaç kaç kaç

Young Meryl

Photo: Ron Galella / WireImage

happy birthday Freddie.

Here why I listen to ålesund

and why I want to be there with just a bottle of wine

"...

Up here in the air 
I'm just mumbling at the clouds 
Wanting to be known 
While I pass the lonely hours

...

Your calm hypnotic eyes 
Your Scandinavian glow 
I felt them like a flame 
Candle in my cold bones 

...

But I turned and walked 
Away from all the fun And back into the black 
Seaside night of Alesund
..."

"..
I try to recall the
thousands of years when
these stories were
waiting to be told
.."

early snow piece of today

some sounds irritating sometimes, just because of their obsolete and corny meanings.. but where the figures of thoughts still attract the insight, there is no irritation, but the pure imagination.

çok şahane şeyler

old friends in the garden