The poem that I didn’t write to you
Will destroy me inside of myself.
When I die it will fill into my spirit
And will leave inside of my body.
Tarana Turan Rahimli, an eminent poetess and writer of Azerbaijan, shares her poetry
Tarana Turan Rahimli was born into an educated family on February 20, in 1970, in Baku, the capital city of Azerbaijan. Associate Prof. Dr. Tarana Turan Rahimli is an Azerbaijani poet, writer, journalist, translator, literary critic, teacher, academic, and an active member of the International Literary Agency in Turkey, Azerbaijan, Philippine, Kazakhstan, Italy, Oman, Belgium, and USA. She is a doctor of philological sciences, author of 9 books and more than 500 articles. She is the editor and reviewer of 25 monographs and poetry books. Her two books were published in Turkish, one in Italian, and six in Azerbaijani. Her poems and prose works have been translated into 35 languages. Her work has been published in more than 45 Western and Eastern countries. Her poems and articles have been published by many international sites around the world, in periodicals and anthologies. Prominent poets and literary critics of 15 countries wrote articles about her poetry, and her interviews were published in 27 countries. She has been awarded with more than 50 international awards and 300 honorary degrees and diplomas.
During the studentship years (1991-1994) and after graduation she worked at newspapers. She worked at the Azerbaijan State Pedagogical University for 33 years and had a scientific career path from laboratory assistant to associate professor. In 2004 she defended candidate of sciences on the theme of “Creative activity of Kamal Talibzade”, and got the degree of candidate of philology. In 2021, she defended his dissertation to receive the scientific degree of Doctor of Philological Sciences. She researches in the field of Azerbaijan literature, literature of Turkey, The literature of Bati Trakya, Russian literature, Japanese literature, the literature of western countries, Azerbaijani literary critic. For many years, she gave lectures on the history of Azerbaijani literary studies, literary relations, literature of Western countries, literature of East Slavic peoples, Japanese literature, modern Azerbaijani literature, literature of Turkic peoples at Azerbaijan State Pedagogical University and Baku State University. She translated the poems of about 200 world poets from Turkish, Russian and English into Azerbaijani. In 2024, she translated the poems of the Italian poet Claudia Piccinno into Azerbaijani and published this translated book in Azerbaijan called “Sessiz haray”.
The Poem that I Didn’t Write to You
Dedicated to Mother
The poem that I didn’t write to you
Will destroy me inside of myself.
When I die it will fill into my spirit
And will leave inside of my body.
I shall leave injustice on my shoulders,
Neither the soil nor stone will know.
The spring and winter that I found in my love
Won’t be back forever.
The familiar faces of my friends
Will disappear in front of my eyes.
After you my spirit will look for
The word being worthy to you.
The poem that I didn’t write you
Will go down into the grave in secret.
You also won’t shed tears
To the poem that didn’t come to life.
***
My Spirit is Strange in my Body
At last I found you, have come to say to you
That I shan’t date you anymore!
My spirit is strange in my body
I shan’t put on this body anymore.
I abandon you crossing my name out of your heart
It is enough if you keep my picture inside of your eyes.
I shed tears for you, I wept for hours longing you,
It is enough if you shed a drop of tear for me.
That dug grave will be mine, it is my last address
If you remember anything, be aware where to look for me.
Wherever I traveled I didn’t feel myself strange
Wherever I stand isn’t my Motherland!
***
I fall on the road where you fell out of my eyes
You didn’t know me because I was a small tree,
They cut me untimely, I didn’t have any shadow.
Stumps are left after huge trees are cut
Any of my tracks isn’t left in the height of a tree.
From where you could know I feel cold,
The clothes of my spirit are rotten long ago.
You cut such a grief it doesn’t fit to my frame
I am covered with the grief of my future.
How to look at the face of justice
Such partings are sorrow for the God.
I fall on the road where you fell out of my eyes
I am going to look for you there.
(Translated into English by Sevil Gulten)
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