– run

A voice passed by me.

And someone just ran inside my confused mind

– run

The streets were crowded and crowded

– run

The cars were honking in an endless night

Honking after many years of forgetfulness

Entering my ear and confusing my mind

I heard them honking

And I kept a torn up picture in my hands

I heard the sound of being lost in all the dead-end streets

I heard the sound of tears slipping down the rocked eyes

I heard the sound of tear gas and cigarettes all stinging

I heard the sound of batons meeting backs and heads

And I heard the shadows running behind me

-run

Two silences made a voice

The voice of our hands separated from each other

The voice of yours passing by me

The voice of yours becoming the voice of people

And the voice of mine lost in all those bad days

I was sticking to a postern

Sticking to my office to my job

Sticking to my pills in all those nights of insomnia

And sticking to all those duplicated mornings

I used to wake up and practice my laughs and practice my cries

With a duplicated mirror

I used to put my impatient signature in the bottom of official papers

I used to look for one thing in all the newspapers impatiently

And I used to come back from the office in all the afternoons of impatience

Coming back to the silence that welcomes you in every room

Coming back to the cold hands that keep the hot cup of tea

Coming back to the bad days followed by worse

And Coming back to me waiting to welcome my husband

Like a happy wife who waits to welcome her husband

Waiting for him to throw his socks in the living room

– run

My house is filled with the thrown away sounds

-run

Someone touched my shoulder

You should run to the streets of madding crowd

And to a woman in Arabian veil

You should run to those two shadows behind you

And to the fear of keeping a green wrist band in your hand

You should run to yourself stung by a hot bullet

And to your fingers of the V sign

You should run to the clotting blood in the corner of our lips

And to the night which is our sad resumption

To the incomplete night of liberty

And to yourself dying in my arms

To yourself being alive among the deads

And to our hands meeting each other again

Call me

I am you

I am as cold as your hands

Call me

I want to come back to the streets

Call me to whisper in your ears with love

Call me to lose myself in your arms and in my dreams

Come back and resurrect the memoires

Call me

And rescue me from myself.

Fatemeh Ekhtesari

Translated by Mohammad Hosseini Moghaddam