poem by Akram Yazdani

The Fragile Sound of Objects

translated from Persian by the author

A cracked glass

has hidden the trembling of lips from grief many times;

so much so

that its touch

holds human sorrow within itself.

It pauses for a moment.

The shadow of a tree

slides over the crack

and the old wound

entrusts its pain to the roots;

where

time

is silently

recorded.

The shadow spreads,

branches

touch something from the past

and the wind

carries a story

without naming it.

The mirror stands opposite;

it neither tells everything,

nor lies.

It only

holds enough

so it won’t break.

And the world,

in silence,

embraces

its cracks

and hidden wounds.