I GREW UP

I was left on the crossroads,
I grеw up choosing my own way.
I passed through the aches
That filled into my inside.

I was interested with a strange wish,
I directed towards light and sound.
I drunk off the love
I grew up drinking such loves.

I took hands of the expectation,
I was lost in the corners of life.
I cut the grief to my height
I grew up in this way.

My spirit was invaded thousand times,
I took shelter only in the hemistiches.
A fire was made inside of my heart
But I didn’t burn, I grew up being experienced.

THEY WİLL RECOGNİZE ME FROM MY LOVE

Some will leave their traces, in this world
Some won’t be satisfied with anything.
A grave of somebody
Will mention about its owner,
A word of somebody
Will be left after somebody.
All will desire
To leave any word in this world.
The centuries will cause to forget them.
The false castles made of lies
Will be destroyed.
The people will know everything
They will reprobate after knowing.
The fires will be made
For the guilty past.
They will choose only the words
And will keep only them..
And ..and they will recognize me
From my love!

POETS

They come toward themselves
Till the day they know who they are.
They come to life and pass away thousand times
Till their death-hour comes.

They set webs like spiders,
They pull the nets inside of them.
Whatever grief they have, gather in heart
And the grief turns to a new poem.

They share grief with mountains,
They shake the hands of rocks.
They teach stones how to speak,
They don’t know the language of destiny.

The God always protect them,
There is God’s light in their hearts.
There is a pure child inside of them
God make this child grow old, but not be adult.

They pass away being hung from their words,
They don’t let the words be choked.
They are tired out worn-out life,
They die in order to come to life again.

AGAIN I CAN’T SLEEP

Again I can’t sleep
This night patience tests me.
The longest night of my life
At last will put an end of me.

The memories will awaken,
Seeing me that I am awake.
Oh, how many people will run to me
Through the corners of my past.

So many guests
Won’t go in my thoughts.
One of them will break the rules
And will quarrel with all of them.

Again the sunless days
Will be covered with grayness.
Once I interrupted the tongue
Now it will try to put me to the sword.

The blood of the dead wishes
Will be splashed on my face.
In the north of this night
This poet will be frozen.

Translated from Azerbaijani into English by Sevil Gulten