Fereshteh Vaziri Nasab
Through the darkness of night
In a robe of
Red sand
Visits my city
Its martyrs
The wind
Hurls
In the hairs of the passengers
And hangs them
On invisible gallows
The sun
Waits dangling
Like a big question
On a line of horizon
And burning
In the grips of swirling winds
You are looking
For the healing rain
In the skies of remote countries
Silence
Crawls from my grey lips
To your dark blue ones
And close them
In a kiss
As long as a turbulent river.
Frankfurt
08.07.2009
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Texte und Kommentare zum Labor 2009 werden hier veröffentlicht
Texts and commentaries on the 2009 lab and related research subjects will be published here.