(Amaneh Shahbazi, who had come to the street to bandage someone's
shot and wounded leg, was shot in the neck from behind.)
Amaneh Shahbazi was shot in the neck.
Bullet, like a cricket bewitched by light
like this silence spellbound by night
light fascinated by the loophole
rain mesmerized by her hair
fascinating kiss on her lips
bullet,
like none of these
like seven and a half grams of lead and one gram of gunpowder
has hit Amaneh Shahbazi in her neck.
Bullet
has passed
from Basti Hills
from the seventy billion palaces
from the "Myth" of Bahadur Asgarowladi
from Hasan Rait’s Zoo
from the kings of coins, stones, iron and sugar
from the pension fund of the Social Insurance Organization
from Caspian in Mashhad
from the Shandiz phenomenon
from Niavaran's office
from Lavasan’s Villa
and from a distance of two hundred and thirty-five meters and seventy centimeters with two not very sharp eyes
out of five thousand nine hundred and forty-six rioters and four protestors
has spotted Amaneh Shahbazi
her hands
two branches of light
her legs
two pillars of smoke
her height
like a flower blooming on asphalt
the bullet has watched her warm lips and mouth
her eyes
and
Amaneh Shahbazi has been shot in the neck.
Bullet
a kiss from the palace in Pastoor
from a rooftop in Sarasiab
has reached Amaneh Shahbazi.
Amaneh Shahbazi! Why weren't you in Elahieh cafes?
Why didn't you wear a dusty sage green uniform to respect that dreamy revolution?
Why didn't you listen to Namjo in the dream of smart socialism?
Why didn't you take a selfie with Pasargad and Apadana?
Why didn't you give your taste to Yazdani khorram?
Why weren’t you happy with Farjami?
Why didn't you celebrate your wretchedness with Imami?
Why didn't you take off your hijab in the voting ballots?
Why didn't you take a photo next to the tiny flag of Iran and a blue tick with a smile of horrible satisfaction?
Why didn’t you treat your skin with snail lotions and aloe vera moisturizer?
Why didn’t you send your neck to Toronto and your hands to New York?
Why didn't you attend Nayak's party?
Amaneh Shahbazi, why weren't you in the Femtrip staff?
Instead, you were in Sarasiab
and you were beautiful
like light sliding on a woman's throat
like a spinning fountain in the night
like all fingers Pointing in shame.
Amaneh Shahbazi! Why did you give your neck to the revolution?
Your hands to the foggy memory of your children
your face to history
and your pockets to the government?
Amaneh Shahbazi! Why did you hide the cultural NATO in your 36-size old worn-out shoes?
Why did you draw the map of the disintegration of Iran on the back of your father's crumpled copy and stick it on the empty refrigerator at home and write under it:
"Tomorrow for sure"
Why did you hand over the oil wells to America and the yellow cakes to Israel from pockets of your borrowed dress?
Why didn't you tell your three-and-a-half-year-old son that you go to Tel Aviv at nights and to Haftpeh during the days?
Amaneh Shahbazi, why didn't you kill 500,000 people in Syria and one million people in Yemen to choose peace in New York?
Amaneh Shahbazi! Why weren’t you a guaranteed success?
Why were you not a 70 billion palace?
Why were you not Arif's son and Haddad's daughter?
Why weren't you Zainab, Ruqiya and Fatima, you were Amaneh?
Why weren't you a branch of a tree but a tree?
Why weren't you patient but you were a stone?
Why weren’t you a stone but a mountain?
Why weren't you "Painless Song” instead of "Comrades of Folk School song”?
Why were you not anti-war, you were on the battlefield?
Why weren't you water, you were fire?
Why were you not a mirage, you were water?
Amaneh Shahbazi! Why, why were you there at Sarasiab?
You were beautiful
like a kiss on grief
like blowing blood in the earlobes
like Forough’s mirrors
like Nima’s crested larks
like the call of moon
like a road.
Translated from Persian into English by Rosa Jamali.