Poetry in our time









Suad Al-kuwari-(Qatar)


In The Blink Of An Eye

I have to get this task done
In the blink of an eye, I must do do it.
Sitting on a lonely chair in a deserted street
Spying on the delirium of clouds and the struggle of galaxies
Then I crack the columns of start waiting for the signal.
There is a head that preceds me
To my similars scattered in the corner So I don’t know where to go
Before I complete this task.
Now I know what it means
To sit on a chair in an isolated street waiting Staring at a ship heading for the lost
Staring and waiting.
Now I know the meaning of voyeurism,
Staring and having an adventure
So I started to descend again, wrapped in a dewy scarf With a thousand stabs,
Racing the bird of disappointment.
I lead the windmills of light into endless tunnels Waiting for the doomsday bells to ring
The last bird stabbed by a stray bullet is falling Falling into my arms.
I remember the text of the commandment that was
engraved By the hooves of the lonliness.
On the surface of the abyssal valleys
I had no desire left to lick the honey of slanderer
Even if little sheep slip through my hands.
I will lower my head until the rest passes
I will lower my head
I will remain very careful and suspicious
As the genie of temptation commanded me,
I will lower my head and open my bag to the shepherds I will just watch my likeness
They are growing as if they are burning sparks



Final Liquidation


Burdened like you with my loneliness and my head Only my head is swinging
Like a ball with crazy feet playing with it
Kicking it from all sides.
Oh the noise I can’t hear
Be kind with me
I am still a beginner in your world Be kind with me
I have lost my hearing since childhood.
Burdened like you in my loneliness and my head My head only
With these roofs open to nothing,
With this foreign language that is led
By blind pirates.
With these signs whose meanings are unknown By anyone
Be kind with me, I can’t hear.
To the noise, I submitted my latest report Detailed about my case
Explaining what can not be explained But it refused to understand me
So I threw the last interpretation
In the flood.
I started trying again
How do I get into their noise? Without dropping the headset Or being exploded.
Burdened like you in my loneliness and my head My head only
Pick me up…
Before I fall into the bowels of the thunderbolt Before I turn into a scream or a shot
Pick me up…
I only hear the noise of the wind
And the ticking of the clock escaped from my grasp.
Pick me up…
I might be quite



The door Meticulously drawn
I get out
From the courtyard
Leaving my heart inside.
The fish will breathe
In salty rocks
And the poisoned dagger is tied With the palm
Of the thunderbolt
And I insert the poisoned dagger In the sick body to sleep.
This conflict may be over. Two mysterious eyes Take me far away.
The sea strengthens me.
I take away my isolation
Shaking the door of nothingness I throw myself
In the stillness of the universe Then, I scream
When scared reefs howl
A drowned statue
Rises in the middle of the waves


Darkness –

I fall asleep between two heads The angel of sleep calls me
to take off my head
There were creatures like ghosts. Coming near my bed
The light remains
From a blind window
My dream is falling now
On a sleepy shawl
Like birds of water
Appealing to the wave
Cover it up silently.
The wave scatters in my chest I many times attack
The ashes of the dream.

Beautiful butterflies Come to me
An annoying barking wakes me up
I bury my face in my palms,
Removing the thorns from above my bed I cover my body
With dry pleasure
I surrender to awakeness
A crazy idea comes
And erases my existence


Translated by Zafer Aydin

Suad Al-Kuwari
Cultural Advisor at the Ministry of Culture, Poet

Works Published:  It wasn’t my soul – eloquent poetry (2000).Desert Heiress – eloquent poetry (2001).Searching For The Age – eloquent poetry (2001).A New Door For Entry – eloquent poetry (2001).The Queen Of The Mountains – eloquent poetry (2004).The Complete Poetry Works – eloquent poetry (2022).Local Spoken Poetry: Qatar is different (national lyrical poetry.A jury member in the short story competition of the Cultural Plan (2002).Her works have been translated into many languages.


Dr.V. Klykov 



lock of the wet haze
caught at the lamp post like a chiffon
scarf and from the forest behind the road
suddenly blew softly
drew a breath of chilly air.


On the firth

I opened my eyes
and was shocked
in delight,
The sun crawls into my window –
a big white elephant.
With its rays spread apart

it leaves the fog of the firth.

It keeps mum,

this thoughtful
and leisurely sun.

With its white body

it is filling up all around

Trying to stun

every sound.


Silence! Be quiet, on the hoof
Horses do march by the roof,
Autos, I beg, keep aloof,
Graceful great horses
Copper brave riders
March by the hippodrome roof.
Each other approach,
Swagger and prance
In a night circle dance
Elegant delicate horses.
With charming light pace
A lady of grace
A blond all in black
With a black Maltese doggie
Is coming and nodding
Her smile rather foggy
While rocking so groggy
Her elegant back.

On the New Year`s Eve I`m floating down
a deep blue-green stream, misty-brooded.
I`m floating for real, not asleep, not deluded.
In the dark I`m hopefully heading
for the bright guiding star, silver-hooded.


Victor Klykov, a Russian poet, writer, translator, journalist and researcher, former engineer, economist, diplomat, lives in Austria and Russia. For his scientific works in the field of systems analysis he was elected a corresponding member of the International Academy of Systems Research (MACI) Since 1983 to 2000.His poems were published in Austria, Egypt, England, China, the Czech Republic and Germany in literary magazines and anthologies. Author of 8 poetry and prose books


Абдукахор Косимов (Abdukakhor Kosimov)




You know, there isn’t the place of sorrow in my heart,
No place for the darkness of dense forest.
No place for today’s and tomorrow’s grieve,
No place for light on my self-burning candle.
My heart breaks to hundred parts,
My heart breaks to hundred parts.
Love sound doesn’t come to my ears,
No more tear come to my eyes.
Romantic look went through my calm eyes.
Love moments are pleasing of colorful world.
My heart breaks to hundred parts,
My heart breaks to hundred parts.
Why? Maybe you ask me,
Isn’t more extented of perishable world of poets heart?
If breaks to hundred parts, it isn’t the end of love world?
I say-let the poet’s heart be as your heart,
But more sensitive, as it is the mission from God.
Greatness of poet’s heart is that embraces the pain of the world,
If separate to hundred parts, but never don’t die.
Even cries whole life, but bring jolly,
Burns fall in my hearts and bring spring.
To heart of each man brings kindness and peace,
Brings spring in the spring,
Brings flower scattering spring.


Translator: Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva


I am a spring

I am an early spring, full of flowers,
Favor in this sun and sky,
My hem is full of flower, trefoil, basilica
Inspiration of peasant’s body and soul.
I’m love and play with love, burn, delighting heart,
Awake love in breasts, I sing the lovers.
Sometimes clean sky with the spring rain,
Other time I fell in love with the nightingale sound.
One moment I’m zephyr, and stroke the men’s face and hair,
World filing with the flowers aroma,
I’m abundance, my favor is in the peasant’s sowing,
Tajikistan’s mountains gardens, in the pure soul of a man.
Clean the rooms and with flowers rush to meet me,
In order to find your luck and throne in my soul.
Another time I’m pure water, streaming from the high mountain,
Flow from the heart of harmless peaks.
Pure and clean, as the clean sky of Tajikistan,
As the heart of the people of Tajikistan.


Translation from Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva

Poet, songwriter, journalist, publicist, Abdukakhor Sattorovich Kosimov (Abdukakhor Kosim) was born in Tajikistan.His works have been translated into English, Spanish, Chinese, French, German, Arabic, Serbian, Croatian, Ukrainian, Hindi, Nepali, Bengali, Albanian, Pashto, Urdu, Polish, Portuguese, Turkish, Azerbaijani, Armenian, Persian, Turkmen, Kyrgyz and other languages. Participant in many internaational poetry festival. Coordinator of the World Union of Poets for Peace and Freedom (UMPPL),and many others.



  • Yes, really. So happens.

  • I confirm. It was and with me. We can communicate on this theme.

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