Sherzod Khalilov writes

I LEFT THE POETRY

Did the world change or did I?

What was passed, that happened through me.

Yesterday, I was writing poems to the girls,

The followers of my steps.

Now I have killed myself,

I left the poetry.

Yesterday, I was speaking with the stars,

As though I was fascinated with the moon’s reflection.
Then I gave up entirely

When I had lost your meeting!
What is wrong with me, actually?

I left the poetry.
Now it is the unreachable dissatisfaction,

The golden poetry gardens.

The beautiful moments of yesterday,

Now I need to to reach you.

I depreciated my childhood like that.

I left the poetry!

What is suffering for, what is disappointment for?

What is remembering the past for?

The broken crystal never becomes total,

If a soul breaks there is no rivet.

Memories – I heckled you futiley,

I left the poetry!

I also realized a life,
But I left, goodbye, take care.

You persons who consider literature as erf,

Just keep calm slightly.

I devoted to you my disgusting poem,

I left the poetry! 

-- tr. Asror Allayarov

  
Broken Crystal -- Stan Bigda