Thursday, September 1, 2016


Guzal Ruzieva


Ever trees will forget,

That deserve to the ground,

Ever leaves will scatter,

That not to the land, but to the sky,

Once as billions of whirligigs,

The stars will bloom in a soil.

Ever the earth will fill,

To the buds of peach blossom,

At that time, mountains will smile happily,

To the joyful pastime of winds,

Once there will not be any other season,

That on the ground apart from a spring,

O, that, a human will bear majority,

O, that, a human never dies.

In the same future, the monkeys won't wander, no,

That dispersed from Adam.

They never sate as lived three hundred years

That before thirty, no!

That, the edge will be edge like itself,

A rose will not bloom with its thorn.

At that time the emporiums,

Never sell a conscience, a shame, a pride.

That, the sad shivers of miserable spirit,

Will not rive the heart of nights,

There will be gardens with lotuses,

The world's bogs will dryish,

Hey, this ground, this sky dissatisfied,

After killed and killed my soul.

Then I will reborn,

While filling the universe with the birds singing,

I know that a friend is clear, an enemy is clear.

I will not pick up the smithereens of my love.

Forgive me, my contemporary, that,

I will not recite this world to my kid…


The winter's hardship ends increasingly,
The sun is near to the earth more and more.
A snowdrop raises its head for a meeting,
That missed the God before anyone else.
Nights are glamourous, quiet progressively,
Days giving an enjoyment to bodies even more.
My dear, March is close…
Even in the heart of snow,
There is a flame, a flame!
Whereas, still a dew is the ice drop,
None of them remain as pearl actually.
Oh, life, you are much dearer. For you,
The three other reasons fight with a frost.
An importance, eagerness of the mountains as dwindled,
It inclines its head to every lawn, flower and the petal.
The lover zephyrs play the secret melody, a chanson,
That to their tulip has not unblown yet.
O, my saffron-faced, open your eyes,
The heavenly lightning sparkles in it later.
The days will come so that with open hug,
Eventually, March is close…
Lastly, March is close!

(Agnes Gonxha Bojaxhiu)

Day by day your heart is heavy for your breast,
As if your thorax dwindled.
Allegedly the strange hands choking you,
Your breath is not yours.
Day by day existence is complicated problem,
As your body is not yours increasingly,
You thought a life is a ship without oar,
A life is the terrorised crazed water-wave.
Sorrows – traps, you are not educated,
Still standing, not yet gone,
You think about death, your body shivered,
But, as the life is not interesting…
You go to the window with this imagination,
You desire a light at this moment.
Alas! When spring has come?
When this garden become bloomed so?
An excitement and amazement shine in your eyes,
You feel the some sound of life.
Herein, every bough, every tree teaches,
The philosophy of flourishing…
The same moment, a thought, a sense,
Shows it's volitional.
-Needful to live before starting the spring-
Whereof who passed away without seeing apricot's bloom!
Thereupon the stray bullet that the unkind shot,
For the sake of moans which reachable to the Judgement-Day!
Who wandered among thousands of streets for a piece of bread,
For the sake of children who didn't come back to home!
The weak bodies on the bodies that pain caused,
For the sake of eyes didn't open in this case.
A soul mixed on the foot of scoundrels,
For the alive words of a truth!
For the sake of glory, that stood strong,
Which fought with frosts for spring!
For the hopes, that searched for a light,
For the innocent bloodsheds too!
When a human exists that,
While your heart beats in your breast,
For the sake of people who waited for spring,
Must live,
Must live ceaselessly!
…Your face becomes bright, at that time,
The world enlarges, the sun also a little away from you.
Even they turn to beauty, joy,
The crazy storm of the life!
Guzal Ruzieva,

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