translated from the Portuguese by Lloyd Schwartz, with Rogério Zola Santiago
Over the starlit rooftops, in Iran,
echoes the agonized voice
of those who only want
to say something.
Not the litany of the muezzins
and their monotonous prayers,
asking no questions, insisting on the same answers.
It's the green song tearing
off the black cloth of the ayatollahs
as if from high above the houses
it would be possible to anticipate
the birth of light
that bloodies the dawn.
