voiceless sounds

the more I scream headlong
the more insensitiveness I expel by means of words

the rusher are my words
the more submissive is my voice

the more intensity I apply to bypass insanity
the more I come back to underground

(one-sided) things and (automatized) persons
and our everyday
reality -
all this is concentrated on my words -

all this is a frantic portrait
of our harsh
and miserable
contact with the other -

the voiceless sounds
of our solitude


1 said…
They smell your mouth

lest you have been said: I love you

They inspect your heart

lest a flame is hidden into that

This is a strange time

Who is knocking the door at the night
has come to kill the lights

God must be hidden in closets home.
Love must be hidden in closets home.

Some versus of a Persian poem by: Ahmad Shamlou

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