behnam: Perhaps life Is a rope with which a man hangs himself from a branch Perhaps life is a child returning home from school Perhaps life is the lighting of a cigarette Between the lethargic intervals of two lovemakings Or the puzzled passage of a passerby Tipping his hat Saying good morning to another passerby with a vacant smile
Perhaps life is that blocked moment When my look destroys itself in the pupils of your eyes And in this there is a sense Which I will mingle with the perception of the moon And the reception of darkness
In a room the size of one solitude My heart The size of one love Looks at the simple pretexts of its own happiness,
At the pretty withering of flowers in the flower pots At the sapling you planted in our flowerbed At the songs of the canaries Who sing the size of one window
Is a rope with which a man hangs himself from a branch
Perhaps life is a child returning home from school
Perhaps life is the lighting of a cigarette
Between the lethargic intervals of two lovemakings
Or the puzzled passage of a passerby
Tipping his hat
Saying good morning to another passerby with a vacant smile
Perhaps life is that blocked moment
When my look destroys itself in the pupils of your eyes
And in this there is a sense
Which I will mingle with the perception of the moon
And the reception of darkness
In a room the size of one solitude
My heart
The size of one love
Looks at the simple pretexts of its own happiness,
At the pretty withering of flowers in the flower pots
At the sapling you planted in our flowerbed
At the songs of the canaries
Who sing the size of one window