A phone call from Iran today

[kurds at gn.apc.org]

SOCKS

Out there, the cold December
Has dumbed the wind.
Inside, she sits alone
While like small lambs
Her children sleep around her.
Her husband now for many years
Has been a storm
Following his love of the mountains.

So she's sitting by herself
Like a weeping willow,
Her head bent over her lap

KNITTING KNITTING KNITTING

To finish the pair of Kurdish wool socks
That he has asked for.
By midnight, she'll have finished.
But alas!  she does not know that
When the socks reach him,
He'll only need the left one.


Sherko Bekas