This is a translation of the beginning page of the book: “This Too Shall Pass”, Mohammad KARAMUDINI (2021):
My hand reaches the hole on the top of the wall with difficulty. I dip my trembling finger into it and feel the warmth of a soft and alive body. A tremor covers my whole being. I withdraw my hand. My balance is disturbed. I fall from the sister’s shoulders to the ground.
– Do you remember the time when we took out tiny baby sparrows from their nests? We played with them and when we put them back into the nests, they wouldn’t stick to the nest anymore!
– Yea! I see! I remember, they appeared at the edge of the nests and throwed themselves down again and again!
– Yea! We put them on the nests again, but hey throwed themselves down again and again!
I get up without shaking the soil on my clothes, climb on the heavy door of the courtyard, put one foot on the bottom of horizontal board behind the door and my other foot is suspended in the air. My sister pushes the door open. The door swings open on a heel sunk into the soft soil and gives me a ride. My sister pushes the opened door again to close it and I ride again in the opposite direction. My head is facing the sky now.
Above my head in the sky. Five white dots are flying under the scattered spots of clouds. Surely now their heartbeats have increased at the top of the sky. I fell I really want a pigeon!
… Suddenly, a large drop of water passes by my ear and falls on the soft soil next to the rug. It makes a small hole in the soft soil and makes it wet in the size of a coin. Then the second and third drops fall too.
I’m scared. My sore throat is squeezed. I shout in a muffled voice:
– Mom! Tell the rain to stop! Mom! tell the rain to stop!
The mom laughs. My sister, who has just arrived, looks at me with astonishment. He laughs too. I stop crying. I get up. I take refuge in the room. Our room is windowless and semi-dark. The only way for light to enter the room is the space between two wooden door parts that do not meet each other.
The room is square. The wall facing the door of the room does not reach the dome ceiling. Above it, a narrow shelf is created between the top of the wall and the ceiling. The lone partridge with its red beak and legs still walks hurriedly on the soft soil of the shelf. It goes to one end and returns to the other end.
… My throat still hurts. I lie on the rug in the corner of the room. I feel shivering. I bring myself near the stove. Now I hear the flames in the stove. The water in the black kettle, which is on the flames, has not yet boiled. The flames cast an orange light into the half-dark room.
Now no light shines through the seams of the room door. It must be night. I’m cold. My sister puts her jacket on me; I don’t get warm. I’m still shaking. My lower jaw is shaking and my teeth are chattering. I can’t speak…
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