TARANA TURAN RAHIMLI

TARANA TURAN RAHIMLI

The Feelings At The “Blood Bank”

The smell of blood had settled

Both on the floor and on the ceiling.

There are pictures on the walls

Which are able to froze the blood in the veins.

On the other side of the window

Firstly, the hopes

Then the prayers were falling.

It was possible to read from their appearance

What was inside of the people.

The destiny was weakening those

Who were in need of blood.

The heart of the doctor

Who was visiting the patients

Had run over.

The grief

Named as thalassaemia and haemophilia

Were thirsty for the blood.

The fates that was riding

On the halter of the death

Were at a step’s distance to the death angel.

The hopes that were not sowed were growing

My God, what purgatory is it?

Here a grave and blood

Are on the eye of the scales

For the first time in my life

I saw the color of the grief

On the face of a baby

Who was unaware of its grief.

I Grew Up

I was left on the crossroads,

I grow up choosing my own way.

I passed through the aches

That filled into my inside.

I was interested with a strange wish,

I directed towards light and sound.

I drunk off the love

I grew up drinking such loves.

I took hands of the expectation,

I was lost in the corners of life.

I cut the grief to my height

I grew up in this way.

My spirit was invaded thousand times,

I took shelter only in the hemistiches.

A fire was made inside of my heart

But I didn’t burn, I grew up being experienced.

In This Native City

In This Strange City

I loved the light that didn’t fall into my house,

I loved the ashugh who didn’t play my beloved melody.

I loved each charm calling it my motherland,

In this native city, in this strange city.

I was born here, I but couldn’t be its dear one,

I didn’t taste any forbidden piece of bread.

I couldn’t stay inside of myself,

In this native city, in this strange city.

Its malice and hatred displayed themselves to me,

Its broken belief, its grief will never come to an end.

In rare cases I was met with friendly terms,

In this native city, in this strange city.

Pay attention to the suffocated wishes inside of me,

Look at the writings erased on my forehead-

Dear Qarabagh idles in vain

In this native city, in this strange city.

Who disappeared, what things were lost,

Your baby hopes grew older, become over.

All my close relatives became strange,

In this native city, in this strange city.

Its arms are opened to others,

It hasn’t time to embrace us.

I can’t find the way leading motherland,

In this native city, in this strange city.

All the people talk nonsense…

All the people talk nonsense

In this feverish city.

The people think of themselves,

The city is choked with sorrow.

The clouds are frowned

They sweep the streets.

The winds are so angry

Their right and left side are unknown.

This city is luckless beauty,

Its face smiles, but hart doesn’t smile.

It is like a dressed bride

Nobody is aware of her grief.

It lost all its patience,

It is looking for patience on the ways.

It looks for a grave

For to empty its sorrow into it.

TARANA TURAN RAHIMLI

TARANA TURAN RAHIMLI: Assosiate Prof. Dr. Tarana Turan Rahimli is an Azerbaijani poet, writer, journalist, translator, literary critic, teacher, academic, is an active member of the International Literary Agency in Turkey, Azerbaijan, Philippine, Kazakhstan, İtaly, Oman, Belgium, USA. She is a PhD in Philology, Associate Professor of Azerbaijan and World Literature Chair of Azerbaijan State Pedagogical University, author of 7 books and more than 400 articles. Since 1994 she is the member of  Union of Azerbaijani writers,  since 1998 she is  the member of the Council of Constitutor of World Young Turkish Writers, since 1999 she is the member of Union of Azerbaijani writers, since 2007 she is the member of  well-known honorable organization in Turkey  Cyprus Balkans, since 2018 she is  the member of the WUINWU in Kazakhstan.  She is the editor and reviewer of 20 monographs and poetry books. The work has been published in more than 25 Western and Eastern countries. She is works were published in Azerbaijan, England, Italy, Spain, USA, Germany, Belgium, Mexico, Chile, China, Turkey, Russia, Romania, India, Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Serbia, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, Kocova, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Oman, Saudi Arabia and other countries. Poems and articles have been published in many international sites around the world, on periodicals and in anthologies.