The pomegranate

I lie upon the paved roadway of my fears

on the midnight stop

he

who appears only to cranes in their dreams

envelops my body

envelops my soul

with the fingers of his gaze.

Mounted upon the second hand

I’m climbing upstairs all the while

I know

I will meet him

seated on the next stair

with my blank notebooks

and Sergei’s* pomegranate in his hands.

November 2006

Tehran

Translated by Samvel Mkrtchyan

*Sergei Parajanov