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Main
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 Icicle
A poem by: Amina Zikree
Translated by: Shamal Akrayi
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In the shadows
homelands,
A moment of your memories makes me unconscious
Take my hands
In my imagination
You incessantly becomes greater
Me becomes little.
In this place,
The deserts are rainless.
A cold country cannot satisfied our separation
At all evenings,
I perform some prayers for God
Persuading your passion to hug me
And my eyes to stare your smiles.
As a self I am a mad person
In the village of your eyes
I quietly wandered
I cannot put you out of my mind
Your fingers, in all corners of my live
Have recorded a legend
So I am full of you
How many times should I perform prayers on you?
How many times should I color..
My imagination with our silent walks?
No, afterwards I cannot dream of you
I cannot anymore count the beads of my
grandmother's rosary
I cannot compose stories for God.
Take my hands,
To fill yourself of me
To fill yourself of passion.
Let's build a ship and depart from the shadow
homeland
Let's fill up our boots with stars
Let's mix all the colors
Let's steal the passion and hide it in our
pockets.
Come on,
Let's play melodies on the shoulders of the rain
and then sleep
Let's steal Arda 1
Let's stretch out his rug on Arsho 2 chest.
1- Arda: An angel in Zoroaster religion.
2- Arsho: A Medes leader.
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