In My Blue Imagination
In my blue imagination to meet you,
I cross the river,
and dry my wet tresses
on the red hills
with the warmth of anemone.
The look of the moon,

follows my steps,
with two twin stars
in my pockets
and a small bird which in the summer of my chest
has nested.
Did you come from the winds
that you left with the winds...?
I am a dweller of storm
and with you
to the end of the border of depression
I shall sink.

Authorized Demand

May I Sir?
May I open the windows of my heart
to the tender affections of light?
And at least from distance far,
look at the beauties of life?
May I Sir?
May I be myself- a woman...
And from the three hundred sixty five days of the year,
for only one day be
from all your "must"s and "must nof's free?

May I Sir?
May I just have my natural liberty
of lying on the green grass...
And even more generous than the Sun
give the expectant soil
the warmth of my body and soul?
Or, in the fields yonder,
perch on a lonely tree
to sing in wilderness
seeking unity with birds
and harmony with rivers ,
wh! erein swarms of fish in ecstasy swim,
and in rememberance
of all my love-whispers with the rain,
surrender to a long - sought liberty?

May I Sir?
May I for only a while in your prescribed society
be spared the pangs of
"Stop!"s,
"Don't! "s,
"No!"s,
and "Never! "s?
May I, if you graciously give me the right,
dream of Love?
And in fascination of the bold verses of Mutiny,
the gripping enchantment of a kiss ,
and the absorbing radiance of Freedom,
detach myself
from the hardships of housework,
exclusively imposed on the feminine?

May I Sir?
May I, for some moments of relief, leave
the needle and the thread,
the clothes and the iron,
the kettle and the stove,
And under the endless skies of romance,
merge my being
with those lovely moments of sense and intelligence,
which your "CODE" has ever denied me?

May I Sir?
May I Sir?
May I say "hello" to a neighbor one day?
Or knit a muffler for a passerby
from the strings of my suppressed tears?
And may I migrate without a "permit"
to the altar of roses
yonder there - in the scented fields of spring?

May I Sir?
May I?
May I then laugh in ridicule at whatever here ?
Yes , laugh in redicule Sir!
And tell in your face :
Your "YASA"* is a shame '
And the justice you believe in,
is indeed a disgrace !

The Death of the Fish

Broken are the wings ! ...
And the old ugly owl,
Given up all hopes,
Moans in admonition:

"Beware!,
No way out of the whirlwind rings !"

I'm in deep anguish
Over the death of the fish !
The tall walls of the city
Grieves my heart;

Caught in the dense of despair,
I yearn for the seaside fresh air.
I long for a simple sunrise;

For the soliciting murmur of the rain
And for green plants in flower-pots again.
I long for shouting—shouting loud !
For rendering all chains apart;
For living free;
For being proud !
I long for flying high
Over the mountains and plains
In the azure of the sky.
I'm bored, ah ! , my heart is pressed—depressed !
Dying indeed in my chest -
Yet throbbing in unrest! ,
Weeping in anguish
Over the sad death of the fish ! .