Let me owe you a sieve of water
-- let it be a game where
saber
sword
flames
are covered
with moss in silence
in the tepid and humid south wind
let all starships
approach the harbor
-- and let the pearly sea
not be disturbed ever
when with disillusion and a sieve of water
I scamper shore to shore
Let me owe you a sieve of water
Poem by Zahrat
Translated by Tatul Sonentz
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