Dead Fish

The footsteps in the night
on the veranda of a forgotten spring
are without a doubt the hum of something untraceable.

Spread over
the missing days
across the golden waves of the sun.

The night is regrettably near,
the glances of my sisters
are still so full of expectation
and the salt that the thoughts of the sea
occupy, grinning
Flauntingly at the dead fish:
"You're secret is safe with me"

Spread over
The missing days
Across the golden waves of the sun.

The night is so regrettably near.

From Esfahan, Hope Space by Nafiss Nia
Publishing House Bornmeer - The Netherland 2004
Translated from Dutch to English by Kate Huber