Azerbaijan's poetry

[ravana]

I Must Be Myself (1996)
by Bakhtiyar Vahabzade (1925 - )


Perceive and understand yourself,
Stop bowing first to this one, then to that one.
By flattering others so much
You're your own worst enemy.

We lost ourselves completely,
Where's the vigor, where's the pride?
The old East that once ruled the world
Is now acting upon the orders of the West.

By God, we got sick and tired of bowing to strangers,
But we didn't get bored of imitating others.
We lost ourselves, we become unrecognizable
Because of mixing our pure blood with others.

This world doesn't want to recognize us,
We let ourselves get drowned in imitations.

I want to be known by my own voice,
Enough that I lived like a convict,
I want the eyes of the world to see me
The way I am: with my good and my evil.

I am the way I am, whether black or white,
Why should I imitate others?
I have to be myself, only myself,
If I am not myself, then I am nothing.

[xby]

It's the poem of your country? and you've translated it?
I've recited it aloud just now, and very like it!
It's rhythm reminded me of that of Whitman

[ravana]

Hie Xby! As I read you’re from China. Have you heard about "THE Great Silk Road"? That road is a tie between our countries.

Thank, very glad that you liked it. I like its origin version more. Translate poem? Oh, it demands specially talent that I haven't.

[ravana]

Did you mean Walt Whitman? I most like prose than poetry, read only some verses of Kipling and Byron, but know Lermontov by heart, (he's my favorite).

[xby]

Lermontov? You mean a Russian writer? wrote the novel "The hero of the time".
o, by the way, can you tell me your mother language please? thanks!

[ravana]

As I know Lemontov has got only two novels. "The hero of the time" and "Vadim". I like his poems.

My native language is turkish, but Azebaijan turkish. It differs a little from turkish used in Turkey.(We speak an old origin turkish) We can understan only it clearly than other turkish languages. By the way one of turkey nations - uygurs live in China.

[ravana]

Love of Life (1934)
by Mikail Mushfig (1908-1937)


O how to part with this great world around,
That grows more beautiful as time goes by?
0 how to part with friends, forever bound
To struggle with the earth and with the sky?
Do not become the dew at break of day,
Shine like the sun, o heart, on mornings new!...
How from this world to tear myself away
That revels at the hem of skies deep blue?
Look over there—the sky seems growing light,
And friends have met beneath the morning star....
0 how to part with dawns that shimmer bright
Like nuggets of pure silver, shining far?
How rich is Nature, how mysterious too,
When you disclose her secrets, engineer!
How to discard the sense, the feeling new
Attached to stones in quarries, rising sheer?
Here hawks soar high where lofty mountains loom,
There pheasants breed, and springs like mirrors gleam. . .
The nightingales, the gardens fair, in bloom,
0 how to leave this sight, this lovely dream?
With life that is an endless, lasting fight,
With kindling flames that rage in blood and heart,
With sun and moon, with morning and with night,
And with the sky's vast cupola, how to part?
Before my eyes the iron breakers fume,
The sea is grim, the storm winds keen and tart,
Like lacy flowers sweeps the snow-white spume....
With poetry, with day-dreams how to part?
0 stars—the candles of each cherished thought,
0 clouds—dream caravans that stir my heart,
Celestial sphere—my feelings' airy port,
With these vast azure heavens, how to part?
My cherished love appears before my eyes,
I feel the flame of my poetic art,
My burning breast must ease itself with sighs:
With her sweet raven tresses how to part?
The nightingale is sorrowing near the rose,
Though autumn comes—he lingers to depart,
Life, life! this cry of longing ever grows:
With love, with burning passion how to part?
With feelings new you string" your singing lute
My youthful pen, now just about to start!
0 friends, give answer to my pain acute:
With this great seething fire-flame how to part?

[ravana]

Ramiz Rovshan
(1946-)
The Sky Cannot Hold a Stone!

Hey guy, throwing stones up in the sky
The sky cannot hold a stone!
My son, what happened to your head?
Who cut your hair?
Who gave you this funny look?

Hey guy, throwing stones up in the sky
Your pants and jacket are bigger than you,
The sky is wider than your eyes.

Feeling pity for you,
The sky will hold the stones for awhile.
Keeping the stones in its hand,
The sky will test you for years.
The sky will keep those stones,
Until hair grows back on your head,
Until your clear eyes become blurry.

You will eat what you have,
You will wear what you have,
You will grow up, my son.
Your eyes will become larger as you grow,
The tears will grow in your eyes.
Your hands will grow bigger, as you grow
The stones will grow bigger,
Which you have thrown up in the sky.

If fate smiles at you,
If your death is a little late.
If you could build up a fence or a house,
From those stones on Earth.

If your life lasts as a rainbow,
You will get a bit of each color.
When your grave is dug on Earth,
Maybe the gravestone will come down from the sky.

Hey guy, throwing stones up in the sky
The sky doesn't hold a stone.