Four Hours

Have we just four hours
For the adverb to rebel against the verb?
Has London slept under the book that knows of the future
And pushed the flush lever
On the subject that swirls round the predicate
Swirling down to the point without an eye
That jumps out of the bowl
Into the house and out on the street
What plans that are not written
Go graft the graves
And Gorbachev
We are four hours ahead of London
So why are we four centuries behind?
For four years poems are strewn on my table in the restaurant
Like a trance expecting the man
Or a woman who is four hours behind
Getting it from their spouse like a trance

For four centuries we didn't dig
That we are four hours ahead of London
And that the woman goes there
Four men here
Before they arrive
The flush is sounding

چهار ساعت

چهار ساعت