Thursday Poem


They say under these womens’ chador walk children and restaurants
They say all the skin and passages are moonlight and marble . . .
They do their mock laughter
if the chador is blown away they would take the ‘disaster’ to be stoned
onto the gravediggers of justice

….. Hey! The cry of the creeking carts . . .

Meaning, if there were no boundaries
no desire should be tempted to advance?
But if someone was left under the stones . . .

….. buried alive . . .
….. a woman . . .
by Maryam Hooleh
from Cursed Booth
publisher: Baran, Stockholm, 2000

ranslation: Abol Froushan