World of poet
I am a witness of the colorful world,
I am a herald of my heart’s sorrow.
Good news of the world birds,
As glitter of Moon and Pleiades.
And sometimes as a loaded ant,
And in sky as a falcon
Sometimes I harmed heart suffering
So, sorry of my heavy crime
A am a patriot, a God-seeker
My amen (aim) is for the prosperity
At midnights I am with my fantasy
In insanity is my consolation
If the ways are my destiny,
Paints in my wrinkled face.
Qahhor’s life is of some verses,
Beginning of my colored poetry.
Abdukakhor Kosim
Translation from Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva
Mission of poet
In the poems draw the pearl of meaning one after another,
Poet, extract zam-zam water of the depth of meaning.
As a cable transmit the sparkle of suffering,
Honesty, you are taking the load of whole world.
Sometimes as an artist in the castle of dreams,
In beauty draw face of you-beloved as a dew.
Next time in the dessert of sorrow and mysteries,
Pull caravan of grieves with the bowed head.
To the God Almighty you sometimes tell you mysteries,
Pull the love parting with the full of tears eyes.
Abdukakhor Kosim
Translation from Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva
Till where?
Who am I, from where to where?
I’m going, my friend, for the God’s sake .
I’m a flower, or nightingale or a crow,
Am a jolly gardener or a garden?
Jamshid’s throne or the gold crown,
Or the mist of soil to other state,
Joseph Can’on in the corner of the pit,
Or the evil and sinful brothers.
Am a desert gazelle, good breeze,
Or wounded wolf in the halfway.
I am Moon or the Sun or sky,
Or the land beneath the feet of people.
I’m scholar, full breast beam of brightness,
Generous, or humiliated or poor.
Whoever I am, am no hypocrite,
I’m no fit with the naughty fate.
I am the poet, with own books and anthology,
The person with honor and dignity of my country.
Abdukakhor Kosim
Translation from Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva
Thought
The dense jungle of thought,
So dark and cruel.
I lost my way in it,
Holding the forhead with hands.
Flying my dreams bird,
Seeking its own way.
The dense jungle of thought,
Speaking with my heart.
The dense jungle of thought,
There everywhere are many paths.
From the thought of walk,
Bird of aim awakes upon.
The dense jungle of thought,
Hardly trying to find the way,
If I find the wqay to the light,
I thank God.
Abdukakhor Kosim
Translation from Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva
Poets are as the nation’s slogan,
Are the ever spring rosary.
The honor of poet is till thousand years,
They’re the robe of honor and dignity of nation.
Abdukakhor Kosim
Translation from Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva
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You are with me in my joy and sadnes,
Sometimes you are under my hands on bonds.
Yeart goes out, I’ll pour your blood,
My pen, you are my sweet heart
Abdukakhor Kosim
Translation from Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva
***
For the poet, good verse in a whole world,
If there is more letters, is expensive.
Just a good name is enough for him,
Other his jobs are for people.
Abdukakhor Kosim
Translation from Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva
Heart of the poet
You know, there isn’t the place of sorrow in my heart,
No place for the darkness of dense forest.
No place for today’s and tomorrow’s grieve,
No place for light of my self-burning candle.
My heart breaks to hundred parts,
My heart breaks to hundred parts.
Love sound doesn’t come to my ears,
No more tear come to my eyes.
Romantic look went through my calm eyes,
Love moments are pleasing of colorful world.
My heart breaks to hundred parts,
My heart breaks to hundred parts.
Why? Maybe you ask me,
Isn’t more extended of perishable world of poets heart?
If breaks to hundred parts, it isn’t the end of love world?
I say- let the poet’s heart be as your heart,
But more sensitive, as it is the mission from (of) God.
Greatness of poet’s heart is that embraces the pain of the world,
If separate to hundred parts, but never don’t die.
Even cries whole life, but bring jolly,
Burns fall in my hearts and bring spring.
To heart of each man brings kindness and peace,
Brings spring in the spring,
Brings flower scattering spring.
Abdukakhor Kosim
Translation from Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva
Wave of dreams
My wave of dreams goes to the star world,
From sky I see the Earth in pieces and plots.
In sky gun powder smells in my nose,
Boundless wounds kill motherland.
Squeeze one corner, and burn the another one
Ahriman observe this from their hearts
We are all children of Adam, born by Eva,
Or there all will grow Abel, the devil’s cunning worked hard.
All these pains and sufferings are in mother-land heart,
Except Unity, my dears, no means to cure its pain.
Abdukakhor Kosim
Translation from Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva
Mission of the man
Man came for sake doing something,
So make his under the sky of haven,
This mission is the deal the king either poor man.
Our path begins from the mother’s womb, our intentions are ahead.
Will of this world,
Will of this endless fieldí,
Will of our world, revolving universe,
Will of a vexation world, will of full of blood world,
So, what to do?
To be prepare for the trip,
With you just knapsack of regret,
So, no stay in vexation, unknown in unnamed, mind yourself!
Learn the world science,
Make advices of elderly the chain - mail!
Calm down the obstinate passion!
Light the heart of ignorant!
These all are on the road service,
The road, that is for us as a length of breath.
Until you came to you truth, before you reach the death.
Find you in yourself!
Find you in yourself!
Abdukakhor Kosim
Translation from Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva
I cry
Sometimes I scare of the horror of my fate and cry,
Blow as a boiling spring and cry.
As I reach from loneliness to the pure soil of Motherland,
I smell the Motherland’s morning breeze and cry.
On the road to the life’s trip there are thousands risks,
I hardly see my friend and cry.
From the shameless ignorant in telling the truth,
I hear much reprimand and cry.
If there is a high dam in the way of luck and happiness,
I open the heart’s feather, fly and cry.
Passed the youth time but what can I do?
Tore the veil of ignorance and cry
During hard time this call came from my chest,
Be patient, I reach the joy and cry.
Abdukakhor Kosim
Translation from Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva
Repentance
Even we fall, but don’t see the road,
Abandon the world with repentance.
In youth our repentance is good,
Alas, we are obstinate in our youth.
As vulture we eat people’s goods,
But show us as a pigeon.
As a fox we make cunnings,
Again we say that we’re male lions.
With our actions we are lover the soil,
But we proud, as if we are the stars.
We work hard for this world’s goods,
But take only shroud from the world.
Our guide is the word of God,
Such a pity, we are away of his words.
Don’t hear the heart moan of poor men,
Sometimes we’re comrade of deaf and devil.
In our word there are no as we Muslims,
But in action we are like faithless.
We are all in endless world,
World is game and we players.
Abdukakhor Kosim
Translation from Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva
Wind
Hey wind, you’re blowing from my beloved,
Blow with the smell of thornless ambergris.
With the love melody and the cry and sobbing the heart,
Every time blow with romantic melody.
Sometimes as thief knock my door,
Sometimes blow calm, as a guilty beloved.
With the smell of musk you’ve brought message for me,
Maybe you blow of the bed of beauty?
Sometimes with angry tear off my roof and door,
You blow as an angry and culprit robber.
This morning you came as an old aroma,
Blow as a messenger of the thornless flower.
Qahhor, as inspire came to your heart,
As wind blow above the book of poems.
Abdukakhor Kosim
Translation from Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva
I am a spring++++
I am an early spring, full of flowers,
Favor in this sun and sky,
My hem is full of flower, trefoil, basilica
Inspiration of peasant’s body and soul.
I’m love and play with love, burn, delighting heart,
Awake love in breasts, I sing the lovers.
Sometimes clean sky with the spring rain,
Other time I fell in love with the nightingale sound.
One moment I’m zephyr, and stroke the men’s face and hair,
World filing with the flowers aroma,
I’m abundance, my favor is in the peasant’s sowing,
Tajikistan’s mountains gardens, in the pure soul of a man.
Clean the rooms and with flowers rush to meet me,
In order to find your luck and throne in my soul.
Another time I’m pure water, streaming from the high mountain,
Flow from the heart of harmless peaks.
Pure and clean, as the clean sky of Tajikistan,
As the heart of the people of Tajikistan.
Abdukakhor Kosim
Translation from Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva
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