CELL
Let us take a stroll
to trace back the corridor after the corridor
to know again
span after span
which is familiar,
maybe too familiar,
to us.
No, no, do not ask.
Just walk, walk around, only walk,
because here,
and beyond,
we know,
there is no answer
--in room after room
only complaints, mournings,
babbles that sound—
Let us take a stroll
around, and around, and just walking around,
trying to be amazed
by something maybe neglected,
trying to continue to love
what maybe cast-off.
No, no, do not ask where to go,
as it has been long time ago
since we know
that the streets,
the corridors,
were deadlocked
--in room by room,
there are more and more
complaints, lamentations,
babbles—
Here
Maybe, what we need to do is waiting,
just waiting,
between the walls of time
behind the lattices of days
the sun passes by,
goes by.
Here
in a room which is not spacious,
maybe what we need to do is waiting,
just waiting,
the days go by
pass by
until the turnkey comes
and opens the door
to open the door...
(Original poem. All rights reserved -- © Zaim Rofiqi)
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