The letter of a blind, lame cat to Mrs. Chernoff
14 July 2009
Dear Mrs. Chernoff
It's not a long time I've known you. It's not a long time since I have read your poems, but It's a long truck between my car and yours, that doesn’t let me to over take, to drive near you, to speed, and to continue my driving as a real driver. As if, I have to drive after this long truck, all of my life, in this long, long, long, road.
Now I am a car. (In this line) A dirty, muddy one. with the dream of a carwash.
My poor engine! How weak is its beating. Dear Mrs. Chernoff I am speaking about my down engine, do you know? Clear! It's over 30 years that I am eating gas oil instead of gasoline. And now they want me scrap. My stoplights are full of tear gas, my body is shattered by truncheon, and my windshield is shot by bullets.
Quarrel about potato chips, when we need water to be alive.
Yes. Dear Mrs. Chernoff, It's a long desolate road between us.
And now in this line, I am a cat. A blind, lame, little cat. And I wish I would be a wolf, a fierce, roaring one, to rend the occupiers, The thieves who have occupied my forest, and now the last trees are being cut. How can I find a mouse to hunt, in this empty jungle? And how about wolfs? The hungry, tired, crying, furious, haggard, wolfs.
Curse to the silent lamps.
Dear Mrs. Chernoff, I'm speaking about the silent lamps.
I wish I was a dog, a sheepdog, to protect my people, to protect these naive lamps against the sackers, to protect them against the poisonous grasses.
Dear Mrs. Chernoff, I'm speaking about poisonous grasses.
And I wish I was an enormous mower! to mow this grassrs from all of the green pasturages, then the cicadas would be remind in hunger, And couldn't eat both my leaves and my roots.
And I wish I was a guillotine, and I could execute all of the terrorist cicadas who have destroyed my land, my empty jungle, and I could execute the ones who have killed my brothers and my sisters, my silent lamps and my angry wolfs, my dear roots, my dear trees. And I could cut the hands of the ones who have blinded my eyes, and broken my leg.
See! I hate the killers but I wish to kill. How can I choose one of them? Being a lamp or being a wolf? Or more real, a blind lame little cat.
And after all, I wish you can spread the voice of this blind lame cat, where ever the world cans hear me: '' Hey world! I just want a mouse!''
Sincerely yours
The blind lame cat
14 July 2009
Dear Mrs. Chernoff
It's not a long time I've known you. It's not a long time since I have read your poems, but It's a long truck between my car and yours, that doesn’t let me to over take, to drive near you, to speed, and to continue my driving as a real driver. As if, I have to drive after this long truck, all of my life, in this long, long, long, road.
Now I am a car. (In this line) A dirty, muddy one. with the dream of a carwash.
My poor engine! How weak is its beating. Dear Mrs. Chernoff I am speaking about my down engine, do you know? Clear! It's over 30 years that I am eating gas oil instead of gasoline. And now they want me scrap. My stoplights are full of tear gas, my body is shattered by truncheon, and my windshield is shot by bullets.
Quarrel about potato chips, when we need water to be alive.
Yes. Dear Mrs. Chernoff, It's a long desolate road between us.
And now in this line, I am a cat. A blind, lame, little cat. And I wish I would be a wolf, a fierce, roaring one, to rend the occupiers, The thieves who have occupied my forest, and now the last trees are being cut. How can I find a mouse to hunt, in this empty jungle? And how about wolfs? The hungry, tired, crying, furious, haggard, wolfs.
Curse to the silent lamps.
Dear Mrs. Chernoff, I'm speaking about the silent lamps.
I wish I was a dog, a sheepdog, to protect my people, to protect these naive lamps against the sackers, to protect them against the poisonous grasses.
Dear Mrs. Chernoff, I'm speaking about poisonous grasses.
And I wish I was an enormous mower! to mow this grassrs from all of the green pasturages, then the cicadas would be remind in hunger, And couldn't eat both my leaves and my roots.
And I wish I was a guillotine, and I could execute all of the terrorist cicadas who have destroyed my land, my empty jungle, and I could execute the ones who have killed my brothers and my sisters, my silent lamps and my angry wolfs, my dear roots, my dear trees. And I could cut the hands of the ones who have blinded my eyes, and broken my leg.
See! I hate the killers but I wish to kill. How can I choose one of them? Being a lamp or being a wolf? Or more real, a blind lame little cat.
And after all, I wish you can spread the voice of this blind lame cat, where ever the world cans hear me: '' Hey world! I just want a mouse!''
Sincerely yours
The blind lame cat
6 comments:
میبینم که با گنده منده ها میپری! ما که از این چیزی نمیفهمیم اقلا بگو ببینیم چی نوشتی
آفرین الهه جان. خوب از پس اش بر آمدی.
این شعر نامه چاپ هم شده؟
بابا با کلاس!
خیلی جالب بود. بسیار لدت بردم.
من خیلی پرفکت اینگلیسی نمیدانم اماتا آنجا که میدانم به نظرم شعر بی نقصی است
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