Ramiz Rovshan

Poems

                         DUST

I am a dust spinning round the sky,

I am an eye looking at the Earth from the sky

I am an eye but has neither eyelash nor eyebrow,

I am a dust but has neither leg nor head,

Envying to the man, animal and bird

I am spinning round the world  

This world is also whirling

Like a gigantic speck of dust

Among thousand and thousand stars

The inside of this world is dust

This world is in the dust

The dust is everywhere up and down

The beginning and the end of the world is dust

I am a dust- who knows where from

Have come from beginning or the end

Oh, my God, I am tired to be a dust,

To be bodiless, lifeless, oh, my God

I would like to be born like a man in the world

I want a body for myself from flesh and bones

Tears, sweat, blood and marrow

I am a dust, free in the sky

Well, no man is free in the world

Oh, my God take this lifeless freedom from me way

Be quick, cage me oh, my God

I am breathless- be quick, give me breathe

Give my breath the cage named body

Give me voice – give the cage mouth to the voice

Give me a word- give the cage paper to the word

YOUNG SNAKE

This young snake is growing up

Crawling but-and-ben

Being happy for swallowing air and water

Being pleased with the land and stone

Some love desire is filling her heart

Her eyes lose sleep at nights

The odour of the flowers, the grass,

The breath of the wind fills her heart.

Unexpectedly from herself, in silence

Everything is turning to venom in her flesh

This young snake some day will know

About the venom hiding in her flesh

Perhaps at that time she will curse her fate

Perhaps she will have a lump in her throat

Don’t cry, don’t cry, young snake,

Don’t curse your fate, young snake

It is life, you must bear

That was the fates decree and will

Loving heart in the breast

The venom under the teeth

Everyone who sees you shout:

There is a snake, a snake

And you are pursued and pursued in the world

Your roads are closed down from everywhere

The only way in the world remains for you

From your head to your tail

From your poisonous teeth to your tail

There is only one way

It is only you yourself

You are your way yourself, young snake

You are your only dear in the world

You are your whelp, young snake

Where will you run from the sight?

What will you do in this cruel world?

Hundred times you will throw your skin off

But you could not leave yourself

Get used to

Little by little get used to yourself

Get used to every vicissitudes of the world

Be resigned to the venom and sorrow in yourself

Don’t be squeamish about yourself, young snake

Perhaps the bitterest truth is you yourself in the world , young snake

You are the honest way in the world

The God perhaps chose this way Himself

With hundreds of vicissitudes

The world maybe would clear up passing through you…

THE SKY CANNOT HOLD THE STONE

The standing boy who throw stones in the sky

The sky cannot hold the stone

The son would not keep such a head, my boy

Who has cut your hair this way?

You trousers and jacket are bigger than you

You look, the sky is bigger than your eyes,

The boy standing and throwing stones in the sky

Still the sky keeps the stones thrown by you

Regretting your head and eyes

The sky holding the thrown stones in the hands

Would examine you for years

The sky will hold the thrown by

You stones until your

Bald head will cover with hair

And your clear eyes will be dull

You will eat, you will dress

You will grow up, grow up, my boy

Your eyes will became bigger as you grow

The tears in your eyes will grow too

Your hands will become bigger as you grow,

The stones you throw in the sky will grow too

If you happen to be lucky in the world

And your death will be late

From the stones you can build the fence

And house in the world

If your life will prolong like a rainbow

Various colors fall to your lot

If one day your grave will be dug in the world

Maybe your grave stone will fell from the sky

…The boy standing and throwing

The stones in the sky

The sky would not keep the stones

                                             DUMB MAN

My God, I get tired as soon as I wake up

I become as dumb as smoke and mist

I am squeamish about every word and saying

Even about the song my baby sings

I don’t want to sully my tongue with a word

If I turn into a wolf I don’t want to howl

The poems and words have lost the taste

I have no word which could make me speak

I have no desire to speak to men

And I am ashamed to speak to the God

I sigh, my sigh laughs

This “sigh” do not believe me,

I might have a lot of sins

If my God does not trust me

Who do trust who?

If a man dies in sorrow

There is hardly anyone to kiss the crying eyes

Even if the angels would fly in from the sky

You could hardly find feeding one.

This Motherland is my destiny;

Even the flowers here do not open without profit

The God got tired and became exhausted

The angels became lecherous a little.

I fell silent, this tongue and lips would not move

I have already become dumb; I am dumb in this world.

I am only visible for the blind,

Only the deaf understand me in the world.

Who will speak with me unless you?

Oh, my God, I am dumb from myself to you.

I am deaf to this new faith and religion

You would send in the bird’s wings.

Teach me the language of the land and stone,

Perhaps I could speak in my grave,

 Oh, my God, teach me the language of the birds

I want to learn to fly myself

ON THE YEAR OF SONGS MURDER

to Federico Garcia Lorka

Who remembers the years of the songs murder?

The songs were being killed

The songs knocked at the poets’ doors

- Open! We want to hide…

Some poets opened their doors

And were killed in the threshold

Together with their songs

Some poets hiding in the corner of their room

Firmly closed their doors

Their songs were killed at their doors

Five pair of bloody finger-marks

Remained on their doors

The songs were not buried

The crows nibbled the dead songs

And… The number of nightingales grew

No sound, no noise…

Only the guitars hung on their throats

Were swinging in the wind

Then an old man traveled over the bloody lands of the world,

And closed the open eyes of the dead songs…

Who remembers the years of songs murder?!

The old wounds of the songs

 Were dressed in new and new leaves

We hug the broken guitars

We smell the odor of the land

We sing the songs died during

The songs murder.

CENTAUR

You loved me from afar, lady

You confused me with the

Knight arrive riding on the horse

I am a centaur, lady;

Neither man, nor a horse

A horse among the men

A man among the horses

Those who carry horse head on their

Bodies will not be bored

But it is hard a little

To carry a human head

On the horse body, lady

What am I?

Invalidity of half a man – half a horse

Up to present no horse loved me

No girl caressed me among the people and horses

Even you loved me from afar, lady

Our love ruined from the very beginning

We both cannot sleep side by side in one bed

We both – do not graze head to head

In the same meadow

I know, nobody can find the remedy for my grieves

But like the last hope

I will be waiting for you

Ride, I will walk you

You will stroke my hair

…Lady, if you knew how

Annoying horses are

Day and night their business is

To tell about the tasty grass

Find a whip, lady

I would gallop myself

Away from the world of horses

and men

                    The flowers blossom at this spring night

The flowers are born at this spring night?

How easy is to fall in love at this spring night

If I pick the flowers of the coming spring

And swing on its branches

And hear my name from non -kissed lips

Of the loving girl –

How easy is to die at this spring night?

… The flowers are born at this spring night

The child is in the hospital ward

The flower stretching her head from the flowerpot

Looks at each patient

Still her timid and fearful odor

Is mixed with the strange smell of the ward

The medicine and iodine scent

The flowers blossom at this spring night

The flowers open with bullet sound

The bullets go off

The flowers open in the

Colors of the white shirts

Near right-right hearts

The bullets go off,

The flowers open

The flowers open at this spring night

The flowers blossom at this spring night

In Paris, Tabriz and our yard.

Our grief and sorrow

Will also blossom at this spring night

The girls with flowers will come to roads,

No force to look, no force to close the eyes.

We have nobody to gift the flowers,

And we have nobody to expect flowers from…

If I pick the flowers of the coming spring

And swing on its branches

And hear my name from non -kissed lips

Of the loving girl –

How easy is to die at this spring night?

                                      RECOGNIZE

                     The birds recognize each other

                     In the dark from the voice

                     The ruthless death recognizes

                     The swan from the last song

                     I am another bird, the other bird,

                     Half a nightingale, half an owl,

                     Such a bird like me

                     Recognize this world from own cage.

                     … How he washes up his face

                      He is astonished when sees himself,

                     A man recognizes himself at death

                     From the last breath…

                                     RAIN WASHES, THE SUN DRIES

                         These lands and sky

                         Are washed by rain and dried by the sun.

                         Many things in this world

                         Are washed by rain and dried by the sun.

                         The tears of our eyes,

                         The top of our hearts,

                          Our grave-stones

                          Are also washed by rain and dried by the sun.

                         What is coming, what is going?

                        What are swaddling clothes?

                        What is shroud?

                        This world is in its sweet,

                        The rain washes, the sun dries.

                       …The dust of the stars

                       Even the sun itself,

                      And the rain itself,

                     Are washed by the rain

                     And dried by the sun

        THE STONE WERE NOT CAUGHT  FOR THIS WALL

Everyone put a stone here

I put my stone too

There were not enough

Stones for this wall

I finally put my head

Neither grief, nor happiness

Could find we here anymore

I put the Shah’s

The Poet’s bird perched on my head.

This wall grew, raised,

Am I in debt yet?

I put my hands into my pockets,

And gave my small coin…

                                                 Like love letter

The gorge between the mountains

Is deep like  dream.

The mountain sends

The fog to the other

mountain like Love letter

Look at the rainbow

Drawing seven lines in the sky

Who is writing that? The God!

Like a love letter

Look at this butterfly

It is like a double leaf

The butterfly flies from

Flower to flower

… When will it get over

This fence from bones

and flesh?!

My soul flies to the sky

Like a love letter.

                                  Handful of water

This morning I washed my face

With handful of water

I saw myself from feet to head

 In a handful of water.

I got to know the wolf

And the lamb,

Every vicissitudes of this world

The good and the bad of the men

In a  handful of water

I found the past

Those who left this world

The print of those who drank

Hundred years before

In a handful of water.

I throw away the stones of grief

I stood up, hold my head

I dissolve the salt of

My tears in the handful of water…

                                         How angrily this bird sings

How angrily this bird sings

It is not a song, it is damnation

As if the bird is barking at the man

It is half a dog, half a bird.

There is no bird among the birds

Who knows the language of this bird?

The dogs keep up the voice

Of this bird who has been barking for long

How much anger and stubbornness

The bird has,

It is worm anger inside the bird

What should the bird do?

But to bark

Maybe his life is a dog’s life

…Be a bird and bark,

Be a dog and fly

Who sees you in this country?!

In this country where

The dog is licking the plate

And the bird is barking …

                  If the world suddenly lightens

If the sun suddenly rises

One night

If the world lightens with whiteness

Lightens town to town

Street to street, room to room

We will see whose hands

In whose pockets are

Who comes out from whose house

Bowing down to the ground

If suddenly the sun rises one night

And we see thousand and thousands of hidden sins

And not being able to cover them

We see this world naked

We will get mad and crazy perhaps

Suddenly everybody may run away

From this world

Who will stay in this world?

Who will grow the children up?

…It is so wonderful that

Our world is little by little lightening

                          ***

To die like a storm-cloud-

In a spring rain

To die like a hope –

In a girl’s sight.

To die in the wind wing

Like a leaf

To die under the grave

Like a land

To die like a flower

In a vase

To die like a nightingale

In separation

To die like a sound –

In a deaf man ear

To die like a word –

In the lips of a dumb man

To die day by day

To die repeatedly

To come to life after the death

And then to die again

The Sky Cannot Hold a Stone

Hey guy, throwing stones up in the sky

The sky cannot hold a stone!

My son, what happened to your head?

Who cut your hair?

Who gave you this funny look?

Hey guy, throwing stones up in the sky

Your pants and jacket are bigger than you,

The sky is wider than your eyes.

Feeling pity for you,

The sky will hold the stones for awhile.

Keeping the stones in its hand,

The sky will test you for years.

The sky will keep those stones,

Until hair grows back on your head,

Until your clear eyes become blurry.

You will eat what you have,

You will wear what you have,

You will grow up, my son.

Your eyes will become larger as you grow,

The tears will grow in your eyes.

Your hands will grow bigger, as you grow

The stones will grow bigger,

Which you have thrown up in the sky.

If fate smiles at you,

If your death is a little late.

If you could build up a fence or a house,

From those stones on Earth.

If your life lasts as a rainbow,

You will get a bit of each color.

When your grave is dug on Earth,

Maybe the gravestone will come down from the sky.

Hey guy, throwing stones up in the sky

The sky doesn’t hold a stone.

With What Fury This Bird Sings

(1999)

With what fury this bird sings.

It sounds more like a curse than a song,

It almost seems to bark,

It’s half bird, half dog.

There is no bird on earth,

That understands the language of this bird.

The dogs bark back

At the voice of this barking bird.

What rage, what fury, this bird conveys,

It bears malice towards the wolf.

Why to blame it for barking,

Maybe its life is as miserable as that of a dog’s.

Bark, even though you’re a bird;

Fly, even though you’re a dog,

Who cares in this country

Where dogs survive by licking boots,

And birds bark like dogs.

Baby Snake

Ilan balasi

The small baby snake is growing,

Crawling here and there.

Enjoying the air that it breathes,

The water, the sand, and the stone.

Taking away its sleep at nights.

The scent of flowers,

The scent of grass

The breath of wind

Fills its body.

Quietly, calmly

Unconsciously,

Everything turns to poison

Within its body.

One day this baby snake

Will be aware of the poison hidden within.

Maybe it will damn its fate,

Or will choke with sorrow.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, baby snake,

Don’t damn your fate, baby snake!

You should bear it,

It’s your life, this was your destiny;

A loving heart in your chests

A poison sack under your fangs.

Whoever sees you, screams:

Snake, snake!..

They keep banishing you,

They block your way

On every side.

You have only one way in this world,

The way from your head to your tail,

From your poisonous tooth to your tail.

There’s only one way left:

You are your own way, baby snake.

You are the only one dear to yourself

In this world,

You are your own child, baby snake.

Where will you run,

To be out of sight?

What will you do

With this ruthless world?

You will shed your skin a dozen times,

You won’t be able to be separated from yourself

Get used to yourself,

Slowly, slowly.

Get used to all aspects of life.

Reconcile yourself to your poison and sorrow inside,

Don’t be squeamish about yourself, baby snake.

Maybe in life, baby snake,

You’re the most bitter truth.

You’re the way of truth,

Maybe God chose this life for you.

Or maybe life, which has hundreds of faces,

Purifies itself through you.