I don’t know who he is, let its name be a hope
Intigam Yashar, a young poet and author of four poetry books, hailing from Azerbaijan, home to many of the oldest hearths on earth, and also the center of fire-worshipping, shares his poems
Intigam Yashar was born on October 3, 1990 in Gadabay district of Azerbaijan. He graduated from the Faculty of Philology of Azerbaijan University. His published poetry books are ‘First meeting’ (2012), ‘…and you are silent’ (2016), ‘I am not at home’ (2018), ‘All memories will remain to you’ (Tabriz city-2021). He has been a member of the World Young Turkish Writers’ Union since 2009, a member of the Assembly since 2013, and is currently the head of the World Young Turkish Writers’ Union. He is a member of Azerbaijan Writers Union. In 2015, he was awarded the Azerbaijan President’s Scholarship Fund. He was one of the winners of the “Best Poem” contest organized by the Azerbaijan Writers’ Union. He regularly appears in the press with articles of various contents. For his successful activity in 2015, he was honored with the “Youth of the Year” award of the Ministry of Youth and Sports of the Republic of Azerbaijan. In 2019, he was awarded the “Success” award established by the Azerbaijan Writers’ Union. His poems were adapted to local Turkish and published in magazines and anthologies published in Uzbekistan, Turkey, Kazakhstan, as well as in Montenegro, Belarus, Russia and other countries. He is engaged in youth literary activities and bookselling and promotion of literature among young people. He is the editor-in-chief of Bizimyazi.az literature and culture website.
Let its name be a hope
At times all beliefs
Are at their last gasp
On execution stump.
And their future wishes
Ask for mercy.
I have no right
To be slack
Though boring questions
Of silence didn’t run out.
Though the fetters heavier than my being
Are like ornament to my feet
Again something draws me forward,
Again, again I have a hope.
Sometimes I keep my head with my hands
My fingers smooth intersecting lines
Of the wrinkles of my face and eyes.
Again, again I have a hope to future.
The address of salutations
Often changes
When there are no replies.
At times I am frightened
To my own voice.
I become a little disappointed
I don’t tell any word.
Again that voice
Again somebody …
I don’t know who he is
Let its name be a hope.
***
Emptiness of this city
My friend,
The emptiness of this city
Begins from a small room.
Don’t play
To the slow melody
Of the silence
İf it doesn’t make your bones shake.
Step slowly
While passing through the former rendezvous place
Don’t think that
Everything has become old,
Everything has been forgotten
İf lovers don’t meet there.
The feet step to the places
From which the hearts have returned
Hopelessly, faded.
Look, they are in the last gasp
They take steps in this way…
Who you are,
Who I am, who is he
I don’t know whether we exist
Or we don’t exist.
If only my strength of reproaching somebody
Come to an end.
Either I could keep silence
Or somebody who heard my questions
Said a word.
***
We are future’s children
Neither are you the child of yesterday,
Nor I am the child of today.
My darling, we are the future’s children,
Future’s children!
We are both guilty of the yesterday and today.
We are guiltless
Only for future
And it depends on destiny
Whether future will come to our life
Or it won’t come.
***
All the covert rooms
A woman’s sobbing,
A pendulum clock
A sleeping baby
İn all the covert rooms.
The doors of all covert rooms
Are half-opened,
And the windows are sweat-shamed.
All the covert rooms
See nothing
They stare their eyes to the floor.
***
Twin pains
At times aches are born as twins
For example,
Like the heartaches and backaches
It is difficult
To distinguish them from each other.
Your arms are opened more broadly
More warmly to them.
You protect them
From each blowing wind
From each falling rain.
While they grow
You become dry being on feet.
Their names are as sweet
As diabetes
But they taste bitter.
And on one of the days
Your friends and acquaintances
Come “to congratulate” you.
You are escaped from all aches
The last remedy of the aches
Helps you.
________________
[…] Read: Let its name be a hope – A Bouquet of Poems from Azerbaijan […]