NIGAR ARIF

NIGAR ARIF

The Reconciliation

Human, taking umbrage at himself,

Have you done a lot of sinning?

What you’ve lost, is just yourself,

Don’t you have things you gained?

Who took you from you?

Where and how forgot you?

Who put his hand on your heart?

Who did comfort you like that?

Who did ruin your life and fate

looking at your "sorry" face?

What did he leave in your eyes,

Dropping as tears?

Maybe it’s you, and,

you did do it yourself,

you’ve become a pain for yourself?

Maybe you just let your joys

slip through your fingers?

You,

Who’s oppressed by sorrow,

Don't be so sad, cheer up,

grown tired of your way,

walking in your thoughts.

Get back on your way,

Make it up with human.

Shake hands with one,

whom you lost faith in.

The Wind

The wind, blowing from door to door,

Are you so full knocking at a single door only?

Where are the doors you opened

in the hot summer days?

Where are those who loved you,

invited you to their houses,

calmed with you

when you were breezing?

The wind, blowing from door to door,

where are your friends now,

in the cold days,

when the weather is changed?

Are there many people

who took umbrage at you in this winter?

Don’t wait, the wind,

Don’t wait,

No one would call you

to come in that door,

No one would look for you anymore.

Who will wish you in this weather?

Go away, my dear, go away,

It’s just that dull street

will remain with you,

It’s just that dried tree you broke

will remain with you!

But don’t worry, the wind,

Don’t worry!

This winter will pass away, too,

Summer will come back again,

The sun will shine again brightly,

When the weather is warmed,

your friends will also grow up...

A Clock is Slow

A clock is slow –

It is the world’s one.

the joy either is late

Or life was strangled by sorrow.

Even if it talked and laughed

just like the old man.

his laugh is limped

Like his tired past.

He’s begging or seeking

with a handful wish.

He spends days on stairs

Fighting against the wind.

Out of an old woman’s eyes

Falling her nights.

The broom in her hand

wakes up the streets.

A driver in the car

wishing the passenger,

He is seeking for fate

he could wake it up.

A clock is slow –

It’s the world’s one.

maybe we start life anew,

that we can’t weight.

NIGAR ARIF

NIGAR ARIF was born in 1993 on 20th of January in Azerbaijan. She studied at Azerbaijan State Pedagogical University in English faculty in 2010- 2014.  Nigar Arif is the member of “World Youth Turkish Writers' Union” and graduated ” III Youth Writers' School” in ” Azerbaijan State Writers' Union”. Her different poems were translated into English, Turkish, Russian, Persian, Montenegro, Spanish   languages and were published in different  countries.