Love is the name of a human - Homayoun Poorrezaei (good non fiction books to read TXT) 📗

Love is the name of a human

 

 

Love is the name of a human

Homayoun Poorrezaei

homaychehrzad@gmail.com

facebook.com/Homayoun.Poorrezaei

Publisher: BookRix

February 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To:

All lovers all around the world

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Homayoun Poorrezaei (born in 1993) is an Iranian researcher, writer, editor and poet. Love is the name of a human is his first collection of poems in English. He has published a number of articles and two collections of poems in Persian: The manifest of solitude (2013) and The book of the Moon (2014).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love remained in my heart and my love's lost,

O friends! Please help, because everything's lost.

(Sa'di)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love is neither emotion

Nor special relationship with someone;

It's not even as complicated as excretion of hormones.

Love is the name of a human

That while telling your name

Sounds like the Muses.

He or she is Gods and Goddesses by him or herself;

What a wonder, that Gods and Goddesses

Gather in your arms as one body

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wish you to be,

Just as long as a moment without you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When you left me,

It was such a darkness

That I didn't see

Even my shadow left me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Autumn,

Leaves,

The air,

You don't come,

And the words go to waste.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last night,

My words, intractably, wrote a poetry for you;

It seem that they are going to fall in love with you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I stand before the sea,

And leave your letter in it;

Suddenly

The sea becomes wavy,

And its blue turns into yellow;

My name is not in the letter

And the sea falls in love very soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am drowning and don't want to be saved.

Wandering in that endless blue,

I want the rain stopped,

In the night that your blue eyes were disturbed by the storm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When we saw each other,

So soon we became restless,

And thought we were in love;

We were wrong,

We must wait till the autumn reduce our fever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I knew you of your look,

You are the daughter of flowers.

After you put that flower in your hair,

The flower smells the scent of your hair,

And my world becomes colorful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wish you to fall in in love with yourself

To know

That it's so hard to be fallen in love with you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And I'm in love with a beautiful doll

That is heart free.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You are back in here;

But I still ask for you

From a toy smelling your hands.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When you left me,

I stopped my watch;

Many years it's been

And yet, it's a quarter to nine

On my watch.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These days,

I feel like someone who seems to have found

An umbrella under the rain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I remember your words of dissolve,

Because they are my only memories of you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A girl in autumn,

A girl of autumn,

The moony night of autumn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I count the pieces of my heart;

They are as many as the times I told you "I love you".

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The leaves fall from sky;

It seems

It's autumn up there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm not a poet;

I'm a writer,

Writing the poetry of your eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The 1st month: cutting your letters;

The 2nd month: hunger strike;

The 3rd month: I think about you;

The 4th till 40th month: searching the entire city for the pieces of the letters.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tomorrow,

My heart will stop biting,

And many years later,

That my poems will probably be published,

A crying girl will appreciate my emotions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It is so much space between "I" and "U",

Even in dictionary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At the start of the road,

I install a new board:

The danger of separation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The clouds have started crying.

They have found out

That you are not here anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ravens

Beautiful

In the snow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(To Oscar Wild, for "The fisherman and his soul")

Don't sing fisherman!

The mermaids

Had not heard any sing for a long time,

And the waves,

Took their dead bodies to the shore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You have been so different from the past,

Because you have known that I love you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If the God had created you first,

Satan would not be cursed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don't love you;

I just have thought about you a bit,

And I like you a bit more than the others do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He was counting the number of hearts he had broken

In the city.

One day his heart had been broken,

And there was no one even for counting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sky was so dark;

It stealthy looked at your face,

And drew the Moon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love was the spring

Doomed to autumn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Imprint

Publication Date: 02-18-2015

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