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“I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme.
I hate the way you're always right, I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call.
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”
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برای من
دل کندن از این لیوانِ آب
از جلای وطن تلختر است
و دیگر با هیچکس حرف نمیزنم.
هوا گرم است و حوصلهٔ مباحثه نیست.
من غمگینم
و همینکه بادی خنک به صورتم بِوَزَد
هر حرفی را
قبول میکنم.
حسین صفا
