Shahin Najafi "خالى" lyrics

خالى

كوچه خالى بود كوچه خالىبى تو عارى از هرحس و خيالىجانم از دوريت باكرى شدهمتى كن با اين زرد شمالى

بيست سال زياد نيست عمر آدمى ستبا دستمال سياه روى چشم هاى ميشيتبا لنگه ى دزدى كفش مسجدى شده امفرار كن فرار كن فرار کن مى ميرى

مريم نشست تا كوچه خونى نشود از ترسبا چادرى سفيد و گلى از ياس شكستهآنقدر سرخ سوخت سعیدما قطعه قطعه شدیم قطعه های تكثيرى

با قسط هاى جامانده شعار مى داديمآن مرد آمد با خنده هاى مشعشع و مشكوكآن مرد كه خوب بود و حامله مى كردما سقط شديم از مادران تخديرى

ما نسل روشنى كه تا عمق خيابان سوختما هار از كتاب تا كوچه را گاز بگيريمبمبى كنار گوش مدرسه تركيدآقاى نوربخش كثافت آن ناظم تكبيرى

پيغام روشن حبس در چشم كبود تو بود مسعودبگذار بيست سال ديگر سرخبا بوى تلخ پاى چاك خورده از زندانبا هم لذيذ بشكافيم مغز آن وكيل تسخيرى

آنقدر مادرت ظرف شست كه آب شدآنقدر عكس تو را ديد و كور شداندوه بزرگى ست انبوه انتظارتو سهم زخم مرا از حبس هات مى گيرى

تو خشك شبيه نگاه در عمق غربتىناعادلانه تر از زندگى در برابر مرگآيا هنوز روى پاى خودت گريه مى كنى؟آيا هنوز لحظه به لحظه با اخبار مى ميرى؟

شليك كرد تا تو خلاصه شوى در خويشآقا "ما" زياد بود آقاآنقدر زياد كه هر چه مى كشتيم تمام نمى شدندو خون تاريخ بود ريخته از خشم آختههرچه مى دادند تمام نمى شدندپوست، رخت خواب اسيدچشم، چاله هاى منتظر"ما " تخت، روى تخت خوابيده مرده مى دادندتمام نمى شوندآن زخم ها براى مان غريبه بودسيگارم پوستش را مكيدمأمور بودم و معذورمرگ شغل شريفى نيست آقا"ما " كيف كودكى اش لبريز كينه بوداينطور بزرگ شد بى پدرانگار كه زندگى برايش حقى مسلم استمادر گذاشت بگذرد از زير كتاب، تلخبعد همسرش ديوانه شد و شعر مى نوشتما در محله اش روى رد پاى پليس مى شاشيدشورش چه مزهاى دارد آقاشور شور شورما مادرش …سردار ما را نجات بده سردار خاردار

Empty

The alley was empty, empty alleywithout you devoid of any sense or dreammy soul became lost (Bakeri) for being far away from youEndeavor (Hemat) with this yellow northerner

Twenty years is not a lot, it’s a man's lifetimewith black bandana on your light green eyeswith a stolen single shoe of my mosque-goer’s pairrun away, run away, run away, you will die

Maryam sat down so that the alley doesn’t get bloody from fearwith a white veil (chador) and a flower from the broken jasmineSaeed was burnt so redwe became fragmented, proliferated fragments

With leftover installments we were chanting slogansthat man came with radiant and suspicious laughterthat man who was good and was making pregnantwe were aborted from narcotized mothers

We, the bright generation that got burnt out to the depth of the streetwe, rabid from book so as to bite the alleya bomb was blasted beside the schoolthe filthy Mr. Nourbakhsh, that Allahu Akbar Chanter principal

The clear message of confinement was in your bruised eye Masoudlet another red twenty yearswith a bitter smell of ripped foot from prisontogether lets deliciously crack the brain of that appointed lawyer

Your mother washed so many dishes that she melted awayshe saw your picture so much that she went blindit’s a great sorrow the heap of expectationyou take the share of my wounds from your confinement

You, dry like a look in the depth of exilemore unjust than life in the face of deathdo you still cry on your foot?do you still die bit by bit with the news?He fired so that you get summarized in yourselfSir, there were so many “we” Sirso many that they weren’t finishing no matter how many we killedand history was blood poured from raised furyno matter how much they were giving away, they weren’t finishingskin, acid beddingeye, the awaiting pit holes“we” “bed, on the bed they were giving away the dead”they are not finishingthose wounds were strange for usmy cigarette sucked his skinI was an appointed officer and excuseddeath is not an honorable job, Sir“we” “his childish bag was full of grudge”this was how he grew up, fatherlessas if life for him is an absolute rightmother let him pass under the book, bitterlater his wife went insane and would write poems“we” in his neighbourhood would urinate on police’s footprintswhat flavors does riot have? Sirsalty, salty, saltywe, his mother…commander save us, thorny commander