My heart is full of bloody memories
Akbar Goshali, a renowned poet from Azerbaijan, the land of Fire Temple and Burning Mountain, shares his poems
Born in 1973 in Gosha village of Tovuz region of the Republic of Azerbaijan, Akbar Goshali is the graduate of Azerbaijan Technical University (1995) and the Academy of Public Administration under the President of Azerbaijan (2001). From 1998 to 2013 he headed the World Union of Young Turkish Writers (WYWU). He is currently the Chairman of the DGTYB Advisory Board, the member of the Board of the Azerbaijan National NGO Forum, the Central Asia and South Caucasus Freedom of Expression Network (CASCFEN), the member of the Union of Azerbaijan Journalists, the member of the Union of Azerbaijan Writers (AWU) and the Deputy Chairman of the EBRD, the member of the Public Council and the Deputy Chairman of the Ministry of Culture of the Republic of Azerbaijan since July 2021.
Since September 18, 2020 he has been working as the expert of the Committee of Culture of the Milli Majlis of the Republic of Azerbaijan. In 1996-2000s he worked at the Ministry of Youth and Sports of the Republic of Azerbaijan. He continued his career as a scientific researcher in Ataturk Center in Azerbaijan which is under the honorary chairmanship of the President of Azerbaijan in 2006. In 2020 he was appointed the chief of the department.
He is the editor of films such as “The First Success of the Nobel Brothers” (2019), “Stalin’s Dark Past”, “100 Years of Glorious Life – Haji Zeynalabdin Taghiyev”, “Mistakes and Memories” which have been made by SSR Production and have won awards at many international festivals in 2021. Akber was the editor of “Turan” supplement of “Adalat” newspaper, “Ya Adabiyyat” supplement of “Yeni Azerbaijan” newspaper. He is the member of the editorial board of “Adabiyyat” newspaper and “Ulu Chinar” magazine. He is the Azerbaijani representative of such magazines and newspapers as “Kitab Dunyasi” published in Uzbekistan, “Yuce Erek”, “Akin”, “Kirkuk”, “Turk Yurdu” published in Turkey, as well. He was the fellow of the Presidential Scholarship Fund of Azerbaijan (in 2008-2009s for young writers).
MY HEART IS FULL OF MEMORIES
My heart is full of memories,
My heart is full of bloody memories.
My heart is throbbing –
My heart is throbbing like that,
I remember the Altais.
May be here –
On the shores of the Caspian Sea
If my heart wasn’t throbbing
The Altais would not be remembered.
If the Altais are not remembered,
The fate will be remembered…
Would horses have wings
If my heart wasn’t throbbing?
If one day I see
An army of hearts
Riding wind-winged horses,
Flying away to the Altais
I will be encouraged!
My heart has the name of blood,
My heart has wings.
***
WOMEN GIVE BIRTH TO BABIES
Women read poems,
But men read the women.
Women rock the cradle –
The cradle of the baby
Who has wishes for the future
But men rock the grief
That was left from the past.
Singing songs
Women sew a flag,
But men fight for the flag.
Women weave carpets,
To lay on the road
Where their lovers will walk.
Men lay roads
Through the rocks,
The roads leading to the settlements.
Women are beautiful creatures,
But men are handsome lovers,
Their love trembles like light,
On women’s faces,
Those who are loved
Become more beautiful –
Thus love lasts forever.
Both women and men die,
Women’s bodies are put into the coffin,
But men leave themselves in a woman’s womb before they die.
Women are taken on men’s shoulders,
But men stay in women’s tears when they die…
***
I LIVED SEVEN DEAD DAYS THIS WEEK
The hands of a broken clock did not move to any direction.
The keys remained inside the lock exactly seven days.
My mother did not pray at dawn,
The great moon did not hear my Father’s “Salawat”…
The hooves of the ownerless horse grew.
The master’s fire was extinguished
The master’s machine-tool rusted.
Would the spirit of the dark times rest in peace
If those who wept for the dead,
If those who laughed at the living ones
Gathered and cried for dead weeks, for the past days?
***
THE EXPLANATION OF WATER
“If a fish commits suicide it will jump ashore,
If a person commits suicide he will jump into the water”.
If one dies before jumping into the water
If one is buried before being washed
Water will be poured on his grave, on his grave…
Even if he has no grave…
Tears will flow from the eyes.
It is impossible to live without you, good-named water.
If there are no tears in the eyes
Our dry throats will be wet with a sip of water…
If you bend over a beautiful girl’s bare white legs
You will fall in love.
If you chase a brave man
You will succeed.
If you are thrown on the faces
You will be cold.
Even if you are a sea we call you the Pacific,
Even if you are a river we call you the Kur.
It would be better
If we lived madly
But died quietly
Either we are thrown into you
Or you are thrown on us.
If I could leave this life quietly
My poems would exist as long as water.
***
WHEN SOMEBODY DIES
When somebody dies we bury him
Whether or not he is stone-hearted,
Whether or not he is heartbroken.
When heart reveals itself
Pain appears in the heart
Life appears in pain.
We put a headstone for the dead one
We write his name on it.
We write warm words on the coldest stones of the world.
We put a heart on the writing
We put pain in the heart.
Thus pain travels in the world
Through earths
Through stones
Through writings
Through hearts…
I go and write my pain on the ground
Until the heart will turn into stone.
***
DEAR SHUSHA!
(I dedicate this poem to our sons who fought to free Shusha)
Shusha
You are always dear to me!
Even if our feet do not touch you,
Even if our breath does not touch you,
Even if the flowers do not bloom in your lands
Even if the birds do not return to your sky
Even if water does not flow in your blind springs.
Dear Shusha!
Let other cities not be offended by me
Though all the cities of my country are dear to me
You are the dearest.
Dear Shusha!
I don’t say
We love you
As we love our mother
As we love our children.
But we love you
As we love the grass in your meadow
As we love the cloud in your sky
As we love the birds in your sky;
Dear Shusha,
We love you
As someone can love his motherland!
There are white clouds everywhere,
There are birds in every sky
There is much water everywhere
There are a lot of lands everywhere
But there is no Shusha anywhere…
Dear Shusha,
You don’t ask questions about the past,
Thank you!
You don’t reproach us,
Thank you!
Even though we left you,
You didn’t leave us.
Even though we didn’t live in your land,
You lived in our hearts, dear Shusha!
Dear Shusha,
How do the people fall in love with a city!
– I don’t know how to explain.
When we love we don’t ask how
When we love we don’t ask why
Love became a wing for faith,
Love became an oath and trust,
Love became a way,
Love brought us to you
Like flood through the valleys,
Like wind through the hills.
The road leading to you
Starts from our hearts;
A divine writing
Starts from our destiny.
The roads led us to you;
The roads don’t end with you –
The roads which lead to Zengezur.
Are seen from you, Shusha!
Put your hand on my heart,
Look, how it is beating!
_______________
