from Doubt itself is a belief

Ava Koohbor

VI

          In the hut of the heart

                    silent pleasures of freedom

               chained in a castle

                         rhythmic beats of dance hammering down all round



                                   handful of soil

                      yet fertile


                                              acres of desert

                                         barren but for snake and low leaf



          instant visionary meeting between soul and oversoul

          hints of afterlife


                                                        plotting and planning out decades ahead

                                                        comes to nothing



                         splash from out rushing mountain spring

                                                                                            so refreshing

          parched lips

                                                    ocean upon ocean

                                                                                            no answer





VII

          Yes       Yes       [ ay       ay ]

          I write bitter



                            I speak sweet

                            I cry salty



          To say

          I have savored all of life's entrées

          in but one lifetime's sitting



          yet my heart grumbles

                                         tell me love

                            what's in yr taste?





IX

          A game of backgammon



                                            Such regret

                                                             finding rough rock

                                            under the hands



                                                                          to know

                                            the pain of a solitary cry

                                                                                      finally



                                            all of one's identity

                                            lost on love's board


translated from the Farsi by Patrick James Dunagan and Ava Koohbor
Read the original in Farsi

Listen to the poems read in the original Farsi by the author

Ava Koohbor was born in Tehran and now lives in San Francisco. Her first collection of poetry, تردید، خود یک باور است (Tardid, khod yek bavar ast/Doubt itself is a belief), was published in Iran by Homa Press (with original cover art by Abbas Kiarostami). Lew Gallery editions recently released Sinusoidal Forms.

Patrick James Dunagan lives in San Francisco. His most recent book is There Are People Who Think That Painters Shouldn't Talk: A GUSTONBOOK (Post Apollo, 2011); other writing of his appears in Amerarcana, Barzakh, The Critical Flame, Fulcrum, House Organ, New Pages, Poetry Project Newsletter, Rain Taxi, Shampoo, Sous les Paves, Switchback, and Wild Orchids.