She raises a finger
Excuse me teacher!

If the holy cow* slips
tin roofs falling over
under lots of iron beams
would we always die?

the teacher a tremour slipping down his face
pulled the pocket bottoms off his hands
and heavens fell down on the Nth class

crushed benches
lessons fallen from children's hands
and the walls
what dreams they harboured for the inhabitants
except for

a hand that appeared out of the rubble
rose the sound of a finger!

Excuse me Sir!
May I get up!?

English Translation by Dr. Abol Froushan

by Ali Abdolrezaei

Other poems of ABDOLREZAEI (23)

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