A decrease in blood pressure at night

Our hearts are in the wind
And love is the dilemma of our consciousness
These faces are strange

We had put our clothes together
And now I clean the nothingness
The doors of your closet are open
And my eye ducks are blocked

I saw you darken in the fatigue
I saw myself construct prisons for my words
Those dark paths I saw not
I thought love was simple
This passion, that understanding
Was the love between us was simply mathematics?
Was it but that?
The calculation of pain,
The deduction of expectations
The division of goodbyes
Multiplied by the zero of love…

Now, with a single tear
I wet the crumbs that await on the balcony
The tiled roofs with croutons of bread
I devoured them with my eyes
And nine birds joined me
I threw them,
The beaks of the transient seek the smell of your misery
Every month another bird…
Every month a wing drops.
I steadied my heart,
I sang our sounds
And we can’t get past the middling of lust

The birds break in our image
Your luggage bundles the fog
The ash tucks in between us
The streets form a truce with our memories
The love is the piggy bank of our weariness
And our child is this sea
The fisherman’s net could only catch our steps
"Skala" is the window of disappointment,
The language of lemons,
Reading the bitter taste of our end.

The bicycle trudges like the fear of refugees
The alleyways throw its cats between our shadows
In "Latcha", you ask me ‘is this what you wrote of me?’
And I try to connect death with life
I try to make the distance disappear

I write my sacrifice here
The street of the Armenian church
Here, where the blood pressure of the night drops
Here, where hardened wings hail from the balconies
And our souls flutter on the asphalt


Translated into Arabic by Reem Maghribi