“You think that you’ve moved on.
That you’re happier
and now that you think about it —
you’re quite glad
that it didn’t work out
because you are free
and happy.
You’re so happy.
And it’s better this way.
“Here,
let me tell you my reasons,”
you say. “Let me explain
what I mean.”
After hours of telling
your neighbour and
the florist
and the girl on the bus,
you conclude:
“So, you see? I’m happier now.”
You tell the brokenhearted
your tale
and assure them
it’s for the best,
“So you see? It was meant to be.”
But my dear,
my foolish
hurting dear,
your ego is the bullet
left in the wound.
It’s this ego
that needs to explain itself
and justify the battle.
A true warrior
would be too busy
fighting to live.”

Kamand Kojouri

“I have become intoxicated again.
You are such a potent wine, my friend.
To escape your withdrawal effects,
tomorrow I will drink in excess.

Alas, why make me love?
I was aware, conscious, and sensible before.
I am ill by cause of this illusion.
The devil plays tricks on me more and more.

I was a harp you immaculately plucked at will.
Your score, the nightingale song within
notes composed to imprison and bear me wings.
Oh, if only they could hear how it sings!

I am now beyond parched.
My strings left untouched.
You are no longer an oasis, my friend,
but a mirage soon coming to an end.”

Kamand Kojouri

“I can sense your love,
why leave me in darkness?
Beguile me for your amusement,
stealing my soul without kisses.
You are the sun and I, the moon.
Your beauty is reflected in my eyes.
When we are apart, I am extinguished
in the blackness of these skies.”

Kamand Kojouri

“Where were you
when
I undressed and told the tales of my day?
Where were you
when
I was silent with God in prandial pray?
Where were you
when
I recited love poems as I lay?
Where were you?”

Kamand Kojouri