The Window Poem by Hassan Najmi
The Window
Nothing remains:
only the wound of memory.
And the meeting place,
The smell of the paper of used books.
From the window:
a song about an ancient love.
As if to write the book of the dead,
night became his habit.
As if to entertain
a sadness that accompanies him
he dances alone at night.
Friday, October 10, 2014
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4/25/2024 4:41:06 AM # 1.0.0.1119
