13:59 Süýrgünortan | |
SÜÝRGÜNORTAN
Süýrgünortan! Niçik görnüş! Jöwza ähli zatdan ökde. Ýaşaýyş ýöne bir ”myş-myş” Tomus bu ýowuz toprakda. Bir düýe ýatyr bagyryp, Jokrama yssa çydaman. Çaga dek boýnuny burup, Kimden dileýär ol aman? Bilmek aňsat göge bakyp, Süýrgünortan gelse golaý. Orta Aziýadan çykyp, Afrika barýar tüweleý! Sazakly tokaý ümsümlik, Galmandyr dabaraň ýoky. Şahada teni bir çümmük Böküp ýör gara jok-joky. Toprak ýaryk-ýaryk, diş-diş, Eräp akýar çöl howasy. Dutaryň sesine meňzeş Jokrama yssyň owazy. Bu dert berilmez her kime, Başga söý bilen aram ýok. Derman tapylmaz derdime, Bu ili söýmeý çäräm ýok. • MIDDAY Midday, just look around: the heat raises the sand to a boil. Life is nothing more than a myth when summer comes to this land. A camel on the ground, groaning, doesn’t help against the heat. What does it ask and to whom, its neck bent into a question mark? The day at its peak. The sun blind. Mirages draw me in only to disappoint. In Asia, a tornado is born and wails past me on its way to Africa. The forest of desert trees lies quiet; strives to survive. On a branch, a small body jumps around, a sparrow burned black by the sun. The ground is cracked and jagged; the desert air melts away. The wonderful music of the heat is brief, and piercing. I bear a worry in my heart not everyone bears. My homeland follows me everywhere. I love my people. I can’t help it. Аk WЕLSАPAR. Translated by Eric Welsapar and Idra Novey. | |
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