Like the thirsty Egyptian slave
I fraternize with the death
Among the damp walls of the hospital.
Nijat Hunalp, a young poet from Azerbaijan, shares his poetry
Nijat Hunalp is an Azerbaijani poet and writer, born in 1996 in the city of Mingachevir. He is a member of the Azerbaijan Writers’ Union and the World Young Turk Writers’ Union. His poems were awarded third place in the “Fergana” literary award and were included in the long list of the “Vagif Samadoglu” award. His poems and stories have been published newspapers of Azerbaijan and Uzbekistan. His poems have been translated into English and Uzbek.
DEATH MARCH
In the city of lonely people
I am in the basement
Of the room called as
Hopelessness.
And the apples of my eyes
Look like the mole
Which can see the light from
The far distance
For many miles.
My clothes smell death
Step after step.
I gulped the vinegar
That I had bought yesterday.
Like the thirsty Egyptian slave
I fraternize with the death
Among the damp walls of the hospital.
The beech tree blows its leaves off the sky
In the yard.
My sisters and brothers
Are born from my silent and lonely spirit.
And each birth brings tears
With itself.
***
THE SKY IS THE HOME OF SPIRITS
As nobody on the earth
The poet also wasn’t lucky.
I picked a flower from my heart
For the bee that was left without flower.
The strings of my heart are the friend of grief
For me to take the grief when I die.
I didn’t let my wishes to get older
To be spinsters like the girls.
Nothing is higher than the death
The body without spirit is nothing.
The sky is the home of the spirit
They took shelter at the God.
***
WHERE DID THE HORSES TAKE THE FATHERS?
Both the sword and arrow mixed with the soil,
Where did the horses take the fathers?
Those screams, moaning still are ringing in my ears
Where did the horses take the fathers?
Those courser horses had seen a lot of fights
The manes of the bridled horses were covered with blood
Those horses ran towards the death
Where did the horses take the fathers?
They raged in the fights or battles
They were infuriated in the battles.
They were faster than the wind, they were like birds
Where did the horses take the fathers?
Where are the ‘wish horses’, where are luck horses?
Where are the khakans of properties, horses of thrones?
The centuries turned those horses into the history
Where did the horses take the fathers?
The sons who died leaving their swords in the scabbard,
The sons whose fates made them let down.
Hey, brave sons, if you know tell me too
Where did the horses take the fathers?
The world and the horses are at the same age
The horses were always the friends of the fighters.
Hey, my horse memory, whisper into my ears,
Where did the horses take the fathers?
Into which directions did these roads and path turn?
How hard is holding the load of the history
Hey, my crazy horse, my course horse, call
Where did the horses take the fathers?
Their bodies are on the earth, but their spirits are on the heaven,
There are fear and anxiety in their eyes.
The horses followed the traces of the fathers
Where did the fathers take the horses?
Where did the horses take the fathers?
(Translated by: Sevil GULTEN)
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