My Little Chaos

By Mohammad Hossein Abedi
Translated by Laetitia Nanquette and Ali Alizadeh

These dreams test my patience.

The eternal hands of the clock,

hands that rise and each time

take you for a walk with the other

in half-finished streets,

and these nights that never forget the buzz

of women and men of the street.

If you return again,

you'll see a city

of which you have no memory.

But she’s been my companion for many years.

I have often been wailing as a companion.

Sometimes I’ve been with you

and at times with another.

Sometimes I’ve pissed you off

and do you remember

at times I’ve been crazy.

I still carry on my lips

the taste of rebellion – like a blade –

and like a firearm,

I can instantly

turn this city upside down.

Don’t look at me like this

and stay in that place where ...

If this city is a proper city

it’s because of me.

A small chaos is better than dreams.

The stormy sky has nothing to scream.

This little chaos of mine

screams louder than the sky.

When I compare us to the sky,

just close your lips

look into my eyes and don’t say a thing.

Close your lips

so that I collect my memories,

and from this little balcony

throw them into the park next to the house,

and when they hit someone’s head

that person becomes the shah of the wretched of the city

and we’ll move to another city.

And when I compare us to the sky,

just close your lips

look into my eyes and don’t say a thing.