Poetry Books
By
Kritya publication
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If I had an
eagle's wings
I would rise and fly on them to our shores,
to our own parts,
To See Stambol, to see Kukus, And to watch the sunrise
is it dim there too, as it is here?
If the sun still rises dimly,
If it meets me there as here,
I'll prepare for further travels,
I shall flee to other shores
Where the sunrise greets me brightly
And the sky is sewn with the stars.
It is dark here, dark surrounds me,
Dark covers all the earth,
Here are frost and snow and ashes
Blizzards and harsh winds abound,
Fogs all around, the earth is ice
And in the breast are cold,
dark thoughts. No,
I cannot stay here, no;
I cannot sit upon this frost.
Give me wings and
I will don them;
I will fly to our own shores,
Go once more to our own places,
Go to Ohrid and to Struga.
There the sunrise warms the soul,
The sun gets bright in mountain woods:
With best wishes
Rati
Saxena
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The Mirror Image of Ghost City
Everything begins from mystery
And ends in mystery
Now, the Russian ashes
Has filled
The Gulag Archipelago
In the mirror
In 1996
A bookseller of Chongqing
Has photocopied
The Gulag Archipelago
From me
(Published by the Mass Publishing House in 1982
For restricted circulation
With printing number of 1000)
And has paid me
Six thousand yuan as remuneration
(Whether or not it has been published
There is no knowing)
ZHANG Zhi [China]
#
Silence
Another person
In the moon
Through the woods
Like a sailing boat
Hidden in the fog
The water about
Is running and babbling
ZHOU Duanzhuang
#
Between
nursery rhymes
And chocolates,
Between Swimming classes
And Tennis coaching,
Between Christmas gifts
And Diwali diyas,
Origami crafts
And Lego towers,
In a blink,
How tall
My daughter grew!
AMITA SANGHAVI
Many
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The
Lyric of Babel
By Cao Shui
Great Dance of Sorrow
You stand center stage
They all push you towards sorrow
Backstage, some play the accompaniment
Behind you, some dance to the funeral music
Standing center stage crying, there's only you
This stage stands center of the Asian continent
You are on the Pamir plateue wailing
People come from all directions
Asians play funeral marches for you
And Europeans dance along
Wishing for death, you stand there
You are the most ordinary person
Yet no one will let you be
They sing for you, dance for you
To aid your sorrow process
Until you give up all hope
Until you depart this world
They'll grieve briefly and leave
To find the next eulogee
#
Grave Liquor
We buried a jug of liquor in a grave
Buried last year under the moon
Dug up this year under the sun
We drink at either dusk or dawn
Looking at the girl's name incribed on the tomb
Rising or setting, we aren't sure of the sun
The jug of liquor in the grave was empty
Unaware when burried
Realized when retrieved
We think day and night of empty liquor jugs
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Water
And then the Air went on wandering upon blue Water.
Blue was the motif, pure blue, unguarded and blessed.
Why did their guilty tongues stagger without a purpose?
Was a thirsty yearning woman denied water amid all abundance?
Yes water is virtuous in myriad ways, not evil even when not
good.
Water is reverie to nurture beyond all achievement and
disappointment.
Like Sophocles’, water soothed the bereaved soul of my fiery
being,
Like Everest, water stood tall amid sledgehammer and lute.
Of course my daily life is my temple, my faith and conviction.
With watermark I ascend earthly heights, towards a quivering
sun.
Earth
I had been cohesive with the woodlands, I being the Earth.
I blossomed on the blooms, and then flourished watery fresh.
In the avocado sprouts, the vines were my attitudes.
My senses flowered on every bush, and in my vulnerable arms.
Whitecaps in the soaring pointed grassland, and in the silvery
murkiness
And the sea side respired with me, and the looping waves.
Trembled through the stomata of my own membrane
I had been cohesive with the woodlands, I being the Earth.
Our paradise was occupied with celebration of light to rejoice
the fusion
The green Earth was adorned with buds for the invocation.
Nandini Sahu
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Ghazels by
Alisher Navoiy
Presented by A'zam Obidov
Ghazal #1
Men Presume Heavenly Maidens…
Men presume heavenly maidens are fascinating,
But my own angel is infinitely more captivating.
While Earthly beauties offer many temptations, many charms,
None can spin the glorious imaginings of my love’s creating.
Day and night are not as fine as your downy cheek,
Others are like basil, when with you in the garden venerating.
Is it a wonder lovers like me don’t die of beauty’s
magnificence,
While the miracles of her face are so adoringly penetrating?
The more I drink her beauty, the more beautiful she becomes,
Only her hiding under Joseph’s coat would I find dishearting.
Yea soul, if Leila and Shirin were as fine as our hearts’
desire,
Farhod and Mejnun* would like us be in danger of dissipating.
If a beloved gives a false word, she would be left unattended,
Could a man ignore his heart’s desire if – like mine – she is
intoxicating?
Yea soul, I heard the description of peris and houris*
oftentimes,
None of them – in humanity like a human – is radiating.
Yea Navoiy, thorns in her street are like flowers in my eyes,
And her place in front of me is like paradise – illuminating.
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