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Rosa Jamali

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Making Coffee to Run a Crime Story
by Rosa Jamali   

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Category: 

Poetry

Publisher:  Arvij ISBN-10:  9647174411 Type: 
Pages: 

130

Copyright:  2001
Fiction

Rosa Jamali's poems on poemhunter

A collection of poems in Persian as a landmark of avant-garde poetry in Iran

A  collection of poems in Persian as a landmark of avant-garde poetry in Iran

Excerpt
Making Coffee To Run A Crime Story(translated from original Persian to English)


A knife can't do anything
When the burglar peeps up the house
A knife can't do anything.

The thimbles were asleep
When they jumped over the borders of the house
We were also asleep.


(Your mind couldn't do anything
Just you knew the alphabet and multiplication table
It was enormous
And how could you figure them out...)


FIRST SHOT:
My hair was getting off the scarf
They said that woman could say the shapes of those
Kitchenware by her heart
All the buttons were slipping down restlessly
Her heart was upside-down.
Forgotten my first love poem…
Forgotten your keyword…
Forgotten the first word I could say…
Even forgotten my ID…


Tell me the truth, have you stolen my dream?


SECOND SHOT:
I've sheltered in run-away eye-lids
Have you done with it?
I had buried a treasure in this land
The aeroplane took away a piece of my land.
The hidden windows
Are the last photos of this land.
Alas that your veins were our clues!
You asked my hands which denied you
It's a pity you're absent;
Otherwise the pieces of my land departed you.


On the Plish chair
Either of wind blowing on my ears is contagious
No trust in snowdrops
Ask the trees in Darband which are my partners in this crime
I've buried a piece of goodbye memory
Underneath the trees.

Have I murdered those trees?

I emphasise:
Your nerves are unriper than this
And this false air doesn't prove the frostbite of anything
Is this my fault?
Or my dream is not penetrating in your blood!

Those who crashed the gate in my dream
Didn't know that was a false dream.

I announce your death as the frankness of this paper
And your fingerprint which is my accomplice in this crime
How can I reveal?

All the thimbles were asleep
When they climded over the walls of our house…

I'm the accomplice,
And I tied your destiny to the branches of a tree
I gave you a blood transfusion of Tehran.

(This is a blood relation of Hendeye-jegarkhar
Came to take the revenge of your blood…)

(The narrator who has already commited suicide writes this poem and runs away; The clue has gone with the wind …The rest is not clear…The snow has poured on the fingerprints…
Never they can find it hereafter..She has forgotten the papers & is terribly busy..
I swear to God, My mind didn't work anymore..I missed the narrator who wrote my death…

The answer was a letter in the crossword
But the crossword was designed mistakenly…)

Look!
They've cut this poem short, shorter…
They say the game is over and fire
I've said the last letter.

FIRST SHOT:
I'm ready for the dinner
And ready to act this role
Although I stumble over this long black skirt which trips
Over my legs
I remember you well!

SECOND SHOT:
To the memory you've lost
You've faked my name
You act my role very well
You've arrested my parted hair, the strands of that, part by
Part!
Fire!

You've taught my arrested hair part by part…






WEEKLY REPORT:


Once a week,
He stole my dream
It was a rumour
That he's passed the borders of our house
He steps over the walls.
I didn't care
But his angles haunted me
How could I reveal his identity?
How did he know my Achilles's heel!

He strides
Right on the steps of my yard
He who has helplessly sheltered behind the curtains
On the light of day
The trees are my witness.

Somebody who wasn't in my memory
Didn't know anything about the pieces of chess
Alas!
You don't know anything about this black and white photo
Did you see how he crossed me on the nails?
I had a nail less than the cross!

For 3 times a week he climbs up the walls of my house
And he doesn't know
That the door-keeper is blind.

What have I done?
How could I wipe your shoeprints off the corners of the
Yard?

It's sciatica
On my nerves.




A SHORTCUT TO AN UNKNOWN CORNER(THE CRIME I'VE REVEALED) :

By the request of your permission
We state the correctness of this unknown character
The crime I have revealed
They've sent me to exile to an unknown corner
And there's no way to the basement.

Say it, admit it, confess!
I was born on a day you touched my shroud
My daily entertainment was a dark loophole
My witness was a sheet of my sister's ID

They set the gravity force of a moment that the stone
Doesn't sink in water.

Say it, admit it, confess:
The crime I have revealed!



THE CRIME I HAVE REVEALED:


How well!
I don't know whether it's four o'clock in the afternoon or five? !
It's Thursday or Friday? !
It's October or November? !
It's winter or autumn? !
Minutes are forbidden
I've commited manslaughter
This is not the first time
This is not the last time
It's the one- thousandth time I've been imprisoned
I've got 30 seconds
My shadaw has followed your shadow for years
My hair is the spider web
The seaweeds in my fingers
I never look at the pupils of your eyes
You've spilt the cold milk on my bones
You've executed my pupils by a firing squad
It's been 35 days since I've fallen in love with the corpse
Although this is a crippled report
His eyeballs are infected with pneumonia
Sprained in my breast
I've been given a blind stick
And looking at the calendar is forbidden
How well!
A woman screaming, diagnal and vertical
180degrees to the ridged stick
A woman screaming, round and round;
A woman screaming, a few seconds,
It falls,90 degrees
A woman screaming, It's 12 at midnight
The circle is complete;
360 degrees.

The revolver is off the wall
I'm sick of blood which smells revolting
Say it, admit it, confess!
The air is getting wild,
The universe is a short woman who's been trimmed
Say it, admit it, confess!
Thy've exiled me to an unknown corner
A big stone falls in the water
And there is no way to the basement.
A woman screaming...
A woman screaming...
A woman screaming...





ENTR'ACTE FOR A FEW SECONDS: [At this moment the reader can shut the book for a few minutes to drink a little coffee][This entr'acte has just written to relax the reader's mind: ]
The incidence of a murder in the 8th second of this text is pending: In the case you are the narrator, nobody's been a murderer like me & I'm the single person who knows the secrets of this sinister divination; which one gives more pleasure, a manslaughter with a knife or a moquette cutter?
The murder takes place in room number 13 & you've got the choice of colour about the walls: the crime will take place and nobody can commit it as I do.[It's just the beginning of the crime & your expectation proceeds this doubtless account, you are the second member of this crime: ]The thief, the murderer & the detective are the three wings of an indefinite triangle & the narrator has fled away stealthily.
[from the point of view of a detective you who are reading this text are accused of narrating it] This dead body which has been fragmented to pieces and your bleeding veins are an event that I've commanded to happen!
I testify that I took the moquette cutter & threre was just one glass of water on the table at that night.All those fingerprints on my vein are a vague clue and in the case you are the narrator of the cime the murderer has fled away!
[You'll carry on this inevitable crime if you open the book again





EXPOSED PHOTO(NEGATIVE) :



The night I was murdered Just a coincidence The night I was murdered They've spread the shroud on my eyelids The night I was murdered
Just a coincidence The night I was murdered!

(They shoot at my shadow; but
This woman won't die by God's damnation
I've worn the skin of hyaena!)

That woman was a soothsayer, she told my fortune from the leaves of tea
I was scared
I shot her dead
I shot at her shadow.
(And me like a clown acts up him to rejoice you, laugh a little please…)
It's late to say goodbye
My keen knives have been left on your dish
I've set the dinner on the table
Ace of spades
This is the last card I play
A single graph of that dream
Flat No.8
This is a mystery I cannot reveal
It's 8 seconds to the moment of your death
I've turned to an iceberg on this far deep ocean
Hands of the clock point to the moment of death.

The night I was murdered:
Not win nor loss is important!
Just the important matter is my veins those which can predict this bizarre land
The important matter is your Achilles' heel on my neck
It's important that I've knocked a man over
For some seconds, some minutes, some years, some centuries
Hold him here!

Where can I bury your dead body?

[ The burrial of this dead body is condemned]

O' the sorrow of your short breath
The cracks have been veined underground
It's broken like a porclain dish
O'the sorrow of my short breath!
It's a straight line
No beginning and no ending
A knife from ridged air that I've held in my breath
A vein is risen from my right atrium
I've played the last card
It's a straight line running on the rips of my cheeks
And It's a grave I've dug on my own.

I've grown bigger than my shroud.

-The pillow you've put under your head hears my voice
Knuckles of your fingers know
The everlasting story
I've been engraved on your palms!

Just a few sips of that sticking in the throat wine
I've been sedimentated
No news from that man!

No matter I win or loose!
The important is my veins which are the soothsayers of this land
Important is your sleepy veins, they've been engraved on my neck
Important is the man who I've knocked him over!
I've crushed him under my feet
I've smashed him
As a rubbish!

Where can I bury your dead body!

[ The burial of this dead body is condemned.]

(The woman goes to the corner of window.
If you command to rain,
If you command a downpour, ...

I'm touch of the soil and the wind intercourse,
Im licking,
As the muzzles of a hunting dog,
Though I keep away my memory out of the reach of that aged wolf;
Dancing on the sands of desert;
Dancing on the weeds grown on my grave;
Where you've grown off my sigh,
Dancing...
Being at the end of rope.

The maiden of the rocks:
The maiden who's sitting on the rocks is turning to the rocks.

No matter I win or loose!
It's a whale grown of the land of my teeth
Rising to a giant snake dancing with pipe
Strangle him!
The curse is elongating from the rope of God to my mouth
Your famin- stricken hands,
It's over!

Where can I bury your dead body?

[ The burial of this dead body is condemned.]

A report to the rocks of Darband:
The rocks remember, I'd buried a piece of paper underneath/ What day was that? /I was cold/ I burned the pieces of paper one by one/My name was engraved on that stone/There's a soothsayer always passing the way/This sinister soothsayer...
(I'm acting a clown, miming him, the sound of your laughter reveals me...)
The clown: But the ink of my fountain pen reverses the things, writes the opposites/How many times I said leave him but the ink loves him and writes him...
And the trees! /I'm mad at them, one by one/Too tall that never give me a piece of sky/ The whore trees! / Give me a piece!
I had a vow to dedicate God;
Forget-me- not
I've mounted up the hill
The shrine on the foothill
I've mounted up the rocks,
To whisper the air...
I'm the only maiden of oasis...
Over there! / That tree/ It was a Wednesday/ I buried a piece of poem underneath/ And I wrote below that:
If you find this piece, you'll die in 5 days.
If you wouldn't like to see your mother dies, sacrifice a pigeon...
If you would't like to see your father dies, bury the sparrow alive...
If you wouldn't like to see your child dies, behead another child, let the bleeding nourish the trees here...
And the sun set.
(The mourning dinner: light the candles, take the lanterns…)

O'the mountain, you say it,
If I lie, you say it…

The burial of terrible moments
And an extra fate
Besides I've turned to the rocks
I want nothing from you
A bitter memory
The grave which is the size of my heart
And the trees are praying: Amman Youjb…

_ Are you collecting the skeleton of morning?
_Was it just a struggle in a dream?
_ The blood in your dream overturned that!

Either my shoes have been lost in that dream or my old shoes have grown small…

No matter I win or loose
The important is my veins that's the soothsayer of this bizarre land
I've sucked the narrow veins of my land
They shoot at my shadow
But this woman doesn't die by the curse of God
The night I was murdered
Just a coincidence!
It's a jack pot
My fingerprints are on your walls
Where can I bury his dead body?
The night they murdered me
Just a coincidence!
The shroud has covered my eyelids
The night they murdered me
Just a councidence!
The night they murdered me!
LADY X:


LADY X: I've pulled out the kitchen knife
It stabs from 2 sides
An upside down fork
Dripping from your throat,
Drop by dropp dribbling on the sink
I've pulled out the kitchen knife,
That memory is still running in my veins,
The person who revealed the essence of your nerves
With a second shooting slapped your ears;
It was me!
I've given up,
This jackknife is directly targetted your eyes
The murder takes place in this street
Just in this street, the murder takes place
I've pulled out the kitchen knife
I'm dragging your nerves
What a pleasure was that murder!
I've chopped him to pieces
His Identity is unknown!

-On the night of incident;
Were there two glasses on the table?
The finger printing of a single hand doesn't suffice
The dinner is over!

-There's nobody across from me!
The cups are dashing jingling and jingling
The bell ring is lingering!
[Thy've cut a fraction of this line & the narrator is confused with this indispensable event, her shoeprints are covered with the snow and the've forged her fingerprints. The answer was a letter in crossword, it was designed mistakenly, they've cut a fraction of this line and this is not either the keyword… but there's enough time to drink a cup of coffee…]
Look!
They've cut this poem short,
Shorter,
They say: The game is over
And shoot.

Broken up with his shadow
And there's no time to die!
That loophole is tightening and tightening
Remember the second hand of the clock!

I've said the last word
And tomorrow it'll be a dead body corrupting
[This is the last line of the account which has been cleared, lost & destructed.]



FINGER PRINT

You said: that's a pity
You're the proof of my death.

I said: She has given me 2 threads of her hair
The woman who's dreaming the forgery of a murder
Enough!
I'm blind
And you're asleep
Not enough!

Late to commit suicide
You're the accomplice!
My fingerprints are enough!
Announce it publicly!

My dress is stained with blood.

I've dressed my black mourning gown,
You're running out of my poem
Farewell!

Just you're not asleep
And I'm blind
That's enough!


TEA LEAVES

The soothsayer
Told my fortune
Out of the tea leaves
Scared of coming days
I shot her dead.

The soothsayer
Told my fortune
Out of the tea leaves
Across from the moon
The man commited suicide
The moon captured the baby
Perpetuating…

I shot at his shadow…

Died,
Leaving your eyes,
Leaving your black headscarf on the magpie…

Would you like some coffee?

Scared of coming days
I shot her dead.
I shot at her shadow.

Died.

Give the coins to the begger.




THE LABYRINTH WALLS

The last word: The wind is my witness
The leaves are burnt
I'm writing the most beautiful poem in the world
The burnt leaves are my witness.



A

Don't cut my artery!
Many years ago
I was sitting on the veranda of a palace you had furnished it
Farewell all the seas of the world!
In Nineva
A Phoenician girl
Tore up her liver to pieces…

O' lord of my dreams,
They've taken my gown,
(The stage light is not enough! ...)

They prosecuted the mountains
A four-legged creature was drudging
The gown is torn to pieces!


B

On the fainting shadows of the night
There was the picture of a woman engraved;
The woman was a clairvoyante
But you didn't know
The tea leaves and the clock
There's no response for the world!
(The stage light is not enough! ...)


C

I'm spinning her skirt
All the dancer's of the world
Are taking her revenge
She couldn't dance
As I danced!
It's a puppet in my hand
I'm turning her around
You're a novice,
Could you clap for me?

I've lost in the shadows
You're dreaming of the labyrinth.

D

I'm sitting in the draught
Breathing without you.



E

The labyrinth walls:
Farewell the last shadow of me
Expelled me on infinity
The engraved dead woman
Is your doom.


F

How can I reveal
What have you done with my stolen memory?
When I was on the platform
The wax glued my shoes
How can I reveal?

G

It was dinner time
(The stars snap their fingers, the moon is singing my birthday song, the cake is toxic, …the room is running out of breath…)
_later on!


H

You're clapping hands,
I'm 5 years old
You're screaming
The windows are fainting
You're screaming
Enough!
I'm a small diamond
Don't you believe it?

I

The clock is still
You set the clock
The world is asleep!


J
I've taken the pulse of the world,
Forget me!


K

Roaring with the laughter,
The woman who is a descendant of Hendeye Jegarxar
My blasphemous hair
Once I sewed the veins of your neck
How can I unsew them?
How can I tear up the kisses I stitched on your neck?

L

I'm sitting in the draught
Breathing without you.


M

There's a woman who farewells the sea
Spread the sails!
There's a woman beside you
Her black gown,
My black mourning gown,
The seas are drunk, yelling
Roaring with laughter,
A woman in a small boat.
Spread the sails!
You've rolled over my bed,
It's rusty gravity
My torn heart
2 rectangles
You stole the bigger piece.

Draw the curtains and blow the sky!
The ceiling is low
The chariots of death are writing on our graves:
'In love
The ceiling was low.'

You've nailed my dreams to the wall
A Phoenician woman sighed
Baalbak is on fire,
You're David,
I'm Shulamite…

The dead pigeons,
The dead pigeons,
The dead pigeons,
The dead…

The grave has been dug, the child has been buried, its gravity, its rusty gravity….

I've buried him underneath the trees of Darband,
The sky is hachured,
We are a bas-relief,
You've sacrificed Abraham's child,
I was childless Hajar…

You're lying with that woman;

Draw the curtains!
Spread the sails!
Farewell
O' the seas of my dream…

(This is the end of play,
You've acted well, but
Ophelia is dead,
This is the end of play,
Your voice is so slow,
The audience can't hear that
Your hand movements are frozen,
On the dark stage
Your frozen fingers…

Alas,
The stage light is not enough! ...)


Darband- 1998-2001.




-
*Darband is a mountainous region in the north of Tehran.
*Hendeye jegarxar is a woman in the history of Islam who is a fame in cruelty. She tears up the liver of prophet Mohammad's uncle and eats that. She is called pagan and a sinner.
* Amman youjib: a miraculous praying.

Rosa Jamali



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