by Reza Shirmarz
With your kisses
my voice
is flavored,
along with your fingertips
burn
my innocent limbs,
withered
before blossoming
lacks my body
your nightly insanity.
I don’t exist if
I’m no longer sad,
and you won’t find
my address...
with your fragrance
my writings
my face and hands
are colored.
with your footsteps
-never seen its end
even the foretellers-
my poems
are all disquiet.
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Reza Shirmarz is an Iranian published playwright, poet, literary translator, researcher and a full member of Chartered Institute of Linguists. He has published 37 books in Iran, both written and translations. He writes plays, poems, articles and novels in Farsi and English. His fist collection of poems written in English is titled "My Paintings" which has been translated into Greek and French. He also rewrote his poems in his mother tongue later...
Last updated August 17, 2015