Only three times I turned around it, only three times I smiled at.

Only three times I closed my eyelids and only three drops fell on the ground.

The face of sand appeared three times,

I drunk three my blood and my face three times from your punch. 

Asked me; how can blood and face be drunk? 

I said: just keep silent and look,

and see how can blood and face be drunk from the foam of your hand.

The one whose punch is bigger than the universe is angry at me. 

I said; don’t get mad, keep silent and watch,

the universe is dark, your punch is red.

I am a small spot in the deep Babylon.

I do not know which side of your chest I am.

This mountain, this plain, they belong to which of your geography,

this river, this hill, are the wounds of which birth.

Tigris and Euphrates are two chests, from which one I inclined,

blood dropped on my tongue, in which one I got thirsty, water has broken in the throat.

Only three times I turned around it,

only three times I screamed at it,

my voice fell on the ground three by three, sand drunk my laments three times. 

Asked me; how can water break in the throat? 

I said; don’t get offended, just keep silent and watch,

immortaliy is only blood, and your punch is a hurricane,

I am a small spot in Lalesh, I am your last heir in the “roj-kes” (Sun-Pull) 

Build many palayin-houses, marbles,

voice of children, stories, puzzles, crickets, night tales, and stories of the stories. 

This door, this wall, this broken wing are which side of yours,

I don’t know. Everyday I burn with this fire, I burn and I rise.

Which side of is angel, which one “Basilisk”?

I swore three times, only three time i drank its seven fiery lines, the face burned three times.

Three times i became ash, and three times I was created by the creator.

Three times your name echoed at the limen of the ear,

i became mother three time, three times became girl.

The blessed snakes were cloned three by three,

cricle and circle became bead.

As a neckless on the neck of history, for us a fate. I turned around it three times, and three times I kissed the spell with burned lips. The tip of the needle stayed in my bosom, the bosom is in pieces, soul is scattered, the voice broke, voice echoed on your grounds and skies three by three. 

I said; which voice is yours? 

He said; your womb is a plain without floor and roof, between one dream “there is one, there is none”. Please, once again bring me to the life. Spread some seeds, jiff and the face of water. He got angry and said to me: how is it possible? Whatever exists will vanish. The law of the destiny is nothing for mortals. 

I said: times are lost, hours are lie. In which ship they traveled? And who was it, left the hamper to the river? Who separated the sea into two sides, step by step, where did they go? Which tribe was that, created your face in me. The one who is greater than the universe, forgive my shapelessness and meaninglessness from those big eyes of the villages of Babylon and the soul that I lost in stone suburbs of Ninova who is searching itself under the broken lights. Only three times fall on my forehead and on my moments. Only three times, three by three, endow me the greetings that I sent you, and to my moments. At this mountain, on a white lap of a mother, the tie of a lovelock that has been imprinted with black stones, a head of a snake has been shown at a door, three times the tips of my eyelashes, my pain of stone, of sand, bigger than the sky, catch it, blow it, pass it out, in this endless plain and tamarisk…

I said; just keep silent and watch. Fire is immortal, world is a magical secret. Which child knows this language. Which bird is by the water! And from where brings this sand. Tell me, who deserves such death. 

He told me; world is nothing just like mortals, a child knows that sorrow is an epigram, not here, and not here does the language turn, the song of the bird will always rebound.

I said; they say the child is mute, a defaulter from a pointed door, the wedding of April is not anywhere, the lovelocks of women are short, their mirrors are not friendly anymore. The one whose punch is greater than the universe, I know, I am mute, I am a voice of a scream swallowed with blood. The wedding of the spring is prohibited, who is the owner of the vail of blood? 

Who got mad at the doors, who unlocked the darkness behind seven floors.Darkness like an unsharp knife, cutting the lovelock to the death. The mirage is growing grave by grave, children’s head are getting taller than the stones of the savages. Water is a deep destiny, engram is a sleeping dream at the ends. I just gave voice three times! 

I said; this is not the well of “Yusuf”, the birth of the death is a traveler but not on the road. There is going, but not returning! Tell me, do you have any other door without lock? 

And

Told me, a pair of scale does not exist, the door is a dream with a lock, I am not chassis neither I am here.