Thursday, July 9, 2015

Shakhodatbonu Imomnazarova writes


You are my world narrow and wide
You leave spills in my soul through your sorrow
You recline mountains in my heart
with your soft word

A ray that is hidden in my soul's sky
Will bring good news and persuade towards God
An honor that is shining from your gaze's subsoil
Could light up even at gilding night

A steppe of insanity appears in my soul
Rivers will forgive me for my sins
Snowdrop shall grow someday
From my way-studded eyes

As one thought lighted the meager hut
As snow thawed at the heat of pleasure
Your only smile, your only laughter
Wafts a spring to my four seasons

Maybe the sun sank over the horizon
Springs that hit the cold are numb
Maybe it is coming to me
God's favored happiness....

--tr. Asror Allayarov

1 comment:

  1. It has been said that nothing is lost in a poem's translation except the poetry. This may be a wonderful counter-example, however, of a fine, sensitive poem lovingly rendered into English by a sibling.


Join the conversation! What is your reaction to the post?