June 2, 2011

A poen from the book Essence verses

The evening of a memorial

I’m sitting near the window
and smoke…
Down there on the footpath
Street-cleaner rubs off
the dirty face of the street
in the evening of a memorial

It’s quiet,
even the sound of sweeping
doesn’t come to ear

At the other side of the street
two policeman taking a way
a youth with wounded face
handcuffs on hand
to the executing square

Hundred meters away
at the lovers curve
kisses a girl her boyfriend
in the dark
away from the eyes of
father and brother

And a kid with Hafez Lot in hand
Passing under my window





Minne om en Kveld

Avstand er intet


Masoud, en guttunge fra Kabul

Høydepunkter fra onkels liv



Her eyes

The melody of life

The evening of a memorial

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