Friday, February 04, 2011

انسان‌زاده شدن تجسّد ِ وظیفه بود:
توان ِ دوست داشتن و دوست داشته شدن
توان ِ شنفتن
توان ِ دیدن و گفتن
توان ِ اندُهگین و شادمان شدن
توان ِ خندیدن به وسعت ِ دل، توان ِ گریستن از سُویدای جان
توان ِ گردن به غرور برافراشتن در ارتفاع ِ شُکوهناک ِ فروتنی
توان ِ جلیل ِ به دوش بردن ِ بار ِ امانت
و توان ِ غمناک ِ تحمل ِ تنهایی
تنهایی عریان.

دشواری وظیفه است.

To put it simply, I feel nothing but loneliness. I am reduced to a thing that wants companionship, wants to be understood. Even my skin is hungry for touch.

But I'm not going to give in. Not anymore. I will not escape it, I will do my time, my share.

My arms are open, to loneliness, the only thing that is real.

PS: We're all convicted, we all have to do the time. Only it's in solitary confinement. Knowing all cells are full, doesn't help much.

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