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Zhawen Shali

A Man Dies in me

A Man Dies in me A Poem By Zhawen Shali Translated by: S J Fowler less cold now, as his limbs shrink, his icicle fingers slacken their grip, heat returns to my body. A woman passed, blue lipped Brr, shivers. But in this…

The Front Door of War

By Zhawen Shali The girls of my village Were sizzling the sunflower seeds Because of the disappearance of the sun They were taking empty pots to the spring water And narrating the decisiveness of water to the water And used to get…