Gravequake

Ziba Karbassi

The song of the nightingale
Is not up for sale.
Tell your black crows tell Your black crows
Caw Caw

The song of the nightingale Is not up for sale.

And it’s is not a willow that trembles
It’s the frail figure of a woman.
She’s not a willow to tremble!
You, tremble!
It’s a woman on your grave
Who sleeps under you
Takes money and recites the Koran,

In the name of Allah
Slap cold whip money
Weeping insults ha! ha! money
Skin kiss fur coat mane money
Rouge pallor dignity money
Buys eats buys eats eats eats buys…

What! Graveyard? Fear? Are you kidding? You’re kidding, right?
A woman with rosy cheeks and breasts
Tears the white prayer veil off her head
Spreads it on your grave
And you do her.
Her thin body trembling
Her skinny arms and thighs trembling.
She’s not a willow to tremble!
You, tremble!
She has swallowed fear
She’ll swallow you too
Fear! You!
Fear!
Down below there, up on top there,
You little man!
This woman is to be feared
Even dead, she is to be feared Hajji*
Even dead.
Happy grave,
Hajji
Happy grave!

*A Muslim who has made the pilgrimage to Mecca (Hajj)

Read the original Persian poem here.