Wasted my whole life,
 I hate the clock and can't bear to hear its ticking.
 so he disrupted it,
 Or disembowel it...
 With this my life wasted!
 I searched for it between my fingers,
 Under my fingernails ink soot,
 in the bookshelves,
 obsolete words and common verbs,
 in the chaos of lines and colours,
 in my pockets full of keys,
 under the pillow, another pillow,
 In the collective mirror lives I don't know,
 perhaps hanging on the peg under my broad hat,
 fell from me on the coast,
 Or am I forgotten in the grass,
 Perhaps it was stolen by crows while it was digging up the field!

 Yes, it's a matter of time.
 But I look for it and ask,
 They said:
 Like you, we wasted our days and don't know where they disappeared.
 may have been mixed together,
 People's days are exactly the same.
 Only the kohl sticking to her eyelashes distinguishes her.
 A person's life is made up of his dreams.
 And if the dream is absent, one is absent and his days are absent!
 stop whining and complaining,
 We are waiting for someone to save us."

 Oh Willy!
 What if you really got mixed up,
 Someone claimed it was his life?
 What if God asked me: Where is your life?
 How can he believe I lost it all?

 Seventy-seven springs in which desires flourish,
 seventy-seven barren desert summers,
 Seventy-seven sick autumn leaning on my shoulders,
 seventy-seven long winters,
 mushroom garden days,
 bored days at school,
 On the rooftops the dove hissed and hissed,
 The days of agonizing waiting for a girl whose name I don't know,
 the days of imprisonment in castle six,
 the days of painting in ancient cities and horse stables,
 The days of secret caresses and delinquent shivers,
 Totally wasted gambling nights,
 long daydreams,
 my empty days in front of the window,
 All in front of me in reflective glass!
 But,
 Is it possible for a person to see his life in front of him,
 And she is a successor?

Painting by Amir Khatin