We present this work in honor of the poet’s 65th birthday.

This is the scent of homesickness that is in the air
Perhaps,
The scent of my homesick brothers
The extraordinary scent of a torn shirt
Wafting in the breeze.
No!
This can’t be the scent of a wolf’s bite
I recognise the scent of defencelessness from afar:
The scent of a wounded leopard
In the misty text of the forest
The scent of the resonance of horses’ neighs
in the quiet mountain rocks.
The scent of scorched cotton
Smelt by the moon
The scent of a dove’s blue feathers
in a well.

This bluster of restlessness,
When it blows,
The subdued hearts of ours
Covet the redolence of old excuses.
And our old wounds again,
Anticipating a new hazard,
Yawn.
It’s as if the scent of exodus is in the air.

Translation by Lloyd Ridgeon