Monday, July 1, 2019




I loved the light that didn’t fall into my house,
I loved the ashugh  who didn’t play my beloved melody.
I loved each charm calling it my motherland,
In this native city, in this strange city.

I was born here, I  but  couldn’t be its  dear one,
I didn’t  taste any forbidden piece of bread.
I couldn’t  stay inside of myself,
In this native city, in this strange city.

Its malice and hatred displayed themselves to me,
Its broken belief, its grief will never come to an end.
In rare cases I was met with friendly terms,
In this native city, in this strange city.

Pay attention to the suffocated wishes inside of me,
Look at the writings erased on my forehead-
Dear Qarabagh idles  in vain
In this native city, in this strange city.

Who disappeared, what things were lost,
Your baby hopes grew older, become over.
All my close relatives became strange,
In this native city, in this strange city.

Its arms are opened  to others,
It hasn’t time to embrace us.
I can’t find the way leading motherland,
In this native city, in this strange city.


I became unfading flower, and blossomed,
In the time when  entire  world was fading.
I looked for a pure love
When the earth and sky were full of grief.

I hastened and set my life,
But  again I  was late  for  you.
The destiny left me at half-way,
I let the others pass by.

I became a light breeze
Filled into the sail taking you from me
I became a remedy to the hand
That had broken my branch.

With my butterfly wings
I carried the load of the world.
I mixed my life into the autumn,
Now the fall of leaves began.


This love is still three –month old baby
Its milky lips never tasted bitterness.
This world is like an angel in its eyes,
Still no devil slept on its way.

It is unaware of coming autumn or winter,
Still its smile is a bit fearful.
Its wishes and hopes didn’t touch stones,
Its heart is as touchy as a glass.

Still its hopes didn’t become empty,
Its wishes are sleeping in a golden cradle.
At nights angels sing a cradle song to it,
Each morning its dream is interpreted for good.

This love is still three –month old baby
It is setting a way towards longing.
Still it hasn’t reached to its destination
Hey,  great Creator, reach out your hand.


Dr. TARANA TURAN RAHIMLI is an Azerbaijani poet, writer, journalist, translator, literary critic, teacher, academic, is an active member of the International Literary Agency in Azerbaijan and Turkey. She is a PhD in Philology, Associate Professor of Azerbaijan and World Literature Chair of Azerbaijan State Pedagogical University, author of 7 books and more than 400 articles. She is the editor and reviewer of 20 monographs and poetry books.The work has been published in more than 15 Western and Eastern countries. She is works were published in Azerbaijan, England, Italy, Spain, USA, Germany, Belgium, Chile, Oman, Turkey, Russia, Romania, India, Saudi Arabia, Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Tatarstan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, Macedonia, Kocovo, Bosna-Hersogovina, Japan and other countries. Poems and articles have been published in many international sites around the world, on periodicals and in anthologies.

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