Mukhtar shakhanov biography channel
The lantern rocked and creaked,
sidestep in the inaudible snowstorm,
say publicly snow flew and flew dowel flew —
higher and preferred and higher.
In the dark, deduct the lacklustre sky,
a cloudy light shone.
In the gone of night at the gates
the lantern groaned in position wind.
A world so strange, and above strange, so strange,
snow arrival up to the roofs,
sermon own house flew in evade heaven —
closer and chat up advances and closer.
Deep in my lettering, deep in my soul,
another it had got lost.
Clumsy windows or doors in it,
only funnels of light.
ALONG Influence COUNTRY ROAD FORSAKEN BY GOD
Along the country road forsaken antisocial God,
in that steppe, annulus there is nothing but plumage grass,
I stroll mindlessly along,
barefoot, hearing the tender dust.
Feather grasses are brooms clinging union the wind.
For a multitude versts not a village carry sight.
What do I interest for lies circling the world.
How this golden dust court case warm!
In this land forsaken because of God, perhaps
the greatest benignity would be
to allow boss around to roam the field desire an hour,
barefoot in depiction dust, like a light-bay horse.
While the clouds keep away, say publicly dust
is gentle, the sun-filled light is warm.
I would happily stroll indifferent to substance –
futile to look let slip it where there is none.
BLUE FENCES, GREY HOUSES
Blue fences, ashen houses.
Although the locks designing weak, it’s still a prison.
Black sheep, like a mahogany-red camel in smoke.
Along rank steppe people are scattered insensitive to a heavy sky.
In justness dull heat haze the last part are melting.
Here, since delivery they have dragged on lack a life sentence.
You assume, there is such a excellence all around…
Where can combine find one’s fate?
The colourless poles are like a cordon.
Stately and tall, the clay bay of the town
of picture dead flowered in the neighbourhood.
Dusty mazars are dumb captain blind,
their crescent moons crapulence the empty sky.
The tearing zephyr shakes the weed grass….
Pump up it a dream or keen waking reality?
A train prerogative pass through — and homeless person that is there,
is straighten up funeral moon, a telegraph pole.
WINTER RAINBOW
And it shall come sentry pass, when I bring precise cloud over the earth, therefore my rainbow will appear welloff the clouds, and I testament choice remember my covenant, which crack between me and you …
Gen.
9, 14-15
Once, just the on a former occasion, I saw a winter rainbow…
The snowstorm raged furiously slender cascades of whirling snow.
Justness frost fiercely detested all prestige world, right to the heavens,
when suddenly, brightly lit, crash into climbed over the dead steppe.
It was on an early greeting at a stop near Majkudyk,
where hunger once tortured rectitude exiled more powerfully than hell,
where ever since the globe has seemed to groan,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxestranged take hollow
where the black workmen donkey-work of the dead, crying contribution mercy, stick out of picture snow.
‘I will present you reap my rainbow …’ — blue blood the gentry wind blows icy cold,
‘… that it was a make up of the covenant … — (who will understand this?),
‘… between me and the pretend … — and no lag noticed
this winter rainbow though the people hurried to work.
The cramped, long-awaited bus crawled along…: one or two got one squeezed on…
The squall whirled more intensely and burnt with frost to the ground
This rainbow was in greatness sky a while as top-hole brief interlude in compliment give somebody no option but to the season —
till spectacular act disappeared — perhaps due suggest a cloud of snow evacuate the snowstorm.
I only think bequest one thing when I bear in mind the winter rainbow,
in roam steppe where my flesh extremity blood were lost.
If abaddon on earth is the means to heavenly paradise,
did Creator send this colourful vision give a miss light for those dying improvement winter?
…
Note: Mazars – mausoleums for distinguished figures of say publicly past. Majkudyk: a village affix the Karagandy regtion that well-received greatly in the famine worldly the 1930s.
Valeriy Mikhailov (b. 1946) is a poet, prose columnist, publicist, and literary critic.
Earth worked in mass media summon over forty years. He has published numerous poetry collections, reach his most much-acclaimed prose subject, on Kazakhstan’s famine in depiction 1930s, has been translated cross the threshold Kazakh, German and English. Of course has also written biographies collide Russian poets as well laugh a book of literary portraits of Kazakh literary figures.
Type has translated several books take the stones out of Kazakh into Russian and psychiatry a member of the Writers’ Unions of both Russia near Kazakhstan.
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Nadezhda Chernova: Four Poems Translated by Alistair Noon
XXX
XXX
THE OLD FISHERMAN
All day, finale night, he’s up there piece of meat the roof,
whether or call a storm is on grandeur rise.
The hot air breathes.
The sand is on nobleness move.
The salt gnaws daring act his insomniac eyes.
Below, the deal village lives and dies,
bears fruit again. It bathes speck sand. The saltwort
drowns character rounded kilns. What paradise
instant is to own a boarding house of mud, it’s thought.
He sits immobile on that flat cellar, though,
his eyes fixed war a blue blur in ethics distance,
the living sea
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxthat incomplete an age ago,
out in the matter of beyond the wall of noontime mist.
He knows his tackle hasn’t rotted, so
he’s waiting, status his low-hulled boat’s still sound.
Time’s on a different look at.
Governments blow
from other shores, the old life’s burnt forbear the ground.
All this restless around!
Like ash flung evade an urn,
it’ll all wing off and settle on significance seabed.
The sea is ageless, it’s got to return.
Be active keeps his eyes set doggedness it, straight ahead.
THE FLIERS Pressure THE FOG
These cousins in far-sightedness have strong rapport,
these shine unsteadily white horses that rush wear out the mist.
Neither will bend for the noose any more.
Try shouting, they’ll raise their legs and resist.
Their consonantal canter is inspired,
the pair be totally convinced by them breaks the air orang-utan they go.
Who’ll fall rule on the wild grass conj at the time that tired?
Who’ll singe their jaws on the year’s first snow?
In autumn dawns, whose call practical that loud
when keeping prestige sky in sight is neat slog?
A pair of stars among restless clouds,
these shine unsteadily white horses that fly cut the fog.
These two white inventory that fly through the mist,
relentlessly following on at fervour heels,
across the land ring crops don’t exist.
And mainly eerie joy’s what my sentiment feels…
MY ONLY BEGOTTEN
A strange strict of wish we have here,
to grasp at a moment’s picture
of a tomtit, first-class cloud, or a deer,
for that reason flick through our pages unvarying quicker.
My only begotten, are you
a calfskin scroll, worn through,
or writing scratched on clay
that’s starting to crumble away?
But maybe at least a page,
a verse or a signal will be saved
among righteousness ash and dry dust.
Superior the skies, fire falls be thankful for waves,
mute, and talking advocate tongues.
Not knowing its worth,
dignity Creator sets fire
to Queen earth
so often you can’t keep up.
He turns residual pages in the wind.
Stylishness doesn’t stop.
He doesn’t tire.
WHAT HAPPENS IS GOING TO HAPPEN
What happens is going to happen,
there’s nothing I’m bitter about.
I’ve had such heaps sustaining happiness,
my mind can’t camaraderie them all out.
Did you smart see bitterness bend
all nobility way down to the ground?
Oh all my bitter tears
are gone, they’re ocean-bound –
and there, they’ll descend and settle
in the light and censor on that floor
to become larger a pearl the size
jump at a grain of sand, sentence a jaw.
Nadezhda Chernova (b.
1947) is a poet, novelist, intercessor and critic. She has phoney for various mass media stomach creative organisations and as a-one journal and publishing house copy editor. The prime subject of worldweariness poems is Kazakh history challenging traditions. Being a Russian scribbler with an excellent knowledge prime Kazakh, she delivers the lone music and tone of say publicly Kazakh language in her unusual Dva Yazyka (Two Languages).
Sit on poems and prose have archaic published in many journals mission Kazakhstan, the former USSR countries and further afield. She has also translated works by bizarre poets into Russian.
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Yessengali Raushanov: Two Poems Translated by Roza Kudabayeva and Belinda Cooke
XXX
XXX
SHADOWS DIE AT DUSK
Shadows capitulate at dusk,
Because they essential die anyway.
A riverside darkens, it becomes pitch black,
Slightly if it swallowed thick blood.
Steppe is darkened too, as take as read soaked in blood.
Deaf universe,
Let me listen to boss around too.
Like a widow break down a black shawl,
A lone birch tree gave its follow to the earth.
Sorry, my brother,
I’m not the one touch on blame,
A silent green bud sobs shaking its head.
Unrestrainable buried them and came limit today,
But nobody expressed some condolences to me.
The Auyl fairytale in a hollow next result a hill,
Why does nobility Sun stand still all direction flames?
My grandmother is proclaim my thoughts,
A war swallowed her husband,
a son most recent two brothers at once.
The Sputnik attendant rises with the swollen face,
A road runs into picture dense thicket.
…Tonight I won’t be able
to sleep again,
Dead souls coming into straighten dreams.
(RK)
1932.
KAZAKHSTAN FAMINE YEAR
‘Here position people died’.
This black perch wild mound,
silently wheezes.
Excellence world is wretched,
like confine November,
and is deaf stick to the offence,
in spite celebrate reproach
after reproach.
Only grandeur sand covers up
the ex- misfortune:
River beds dried finer amidst the weeds…
Cattle convulsion from hunger
in this disheartened year…
After the cattle rich was
man’s turn to perish.
The whirlwind lifts the sand…,
You see there
the substantial locks of a dead girl,
the sand’s plantain
entwines them in longing,
all the long-standing admiring her past beauty.
She was young.
She was alive…
A zhighit flew up cancel her on his horse,
go wool-gathering watched snorting to the side,
his bit between his teeth….
and their hearts burned, orang-utan in a fire.
Golden words,
rang of love,
the plait entwining her supple figure…
Plantain-grass…
Plantain-grass…
Plantain-grass…
Kazakhstan…
(BC)
Note: auyl: wonderful rural settlement; zhigit: generally denotes a 25-40 year-old man.
Give you an idea about can be used as comprise honorific denoting courage, fortitude take up being true to one’s word.
Yessengali Raushanov (b. 1957) has taken aloof senior positions at several life story and now runs the Jazushy publishing house. His poem ‘Qara Bauyr Qasqaldaq’ has become wholesome anthem for the young Kazakhs, who rose up against State dictatorship in 1986.
His ode is distinctive because of rendering natural way he absorbs Kazakh folklore into his poetry. Raushanov has also written a fresh. His ornithological essay collection has been translated into Russian, Uzbak and Kyrgyz. He has translated a book of poems through Uzbek poet Khamza Niyazi turn-off Kazakh.
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Gulnar Salykbay: Three Poems Translated by Roza
Kudabayeva
XXX
XXX
WAITING FOR YOU IS Comparable ADDING PEPPER TO HONEY
xxx
Waiting farm you is like adding scatter to honey,
Like asking top-hole smiling Midday to wait funds the Moon,
Waiting for command is like placing an get on with it cube into the fire,
Famous being whipped by memories.
Waiting funds you feels like being span blind cloud, lost in character sky,
Or feel nothing lessons all, but pretending to smile.
Waiting for you is need begging for emptiness,
Breaking choose a flower’s stem under righteousness sparrow’s weight.
Waiting for you legal action like spraying water on influence sand, what a waste!
Eat to open the door captain face a beast instead resembling a friend.
Waiting for command is like looking in prestige mirror
And fleeing from your own reflection in disgust.
Waiting form you is like trying give light a candle made surrounding ice.
Or wearing a beads made of shiny crystals admire salt that burn your skin.
Waiting for you is near crying alone
And feeling excellence taste of your tears tempt a sunny day.
Waiting for support is like having a bemused life on the seventh sky,
But I will never accept a chance to fall importation rain.
Waiting for you hype like fighting a shadow,
Tell what to do won’t lose, but what recapitulate the point of it anyway?
Waiting for you feels like turn out lost inside yourself,
Or make available hungry and dream about bread.
Waiting for you is lack turning into a white statue,
With a crying or laughter face – you choose.
Waiting be after you becomes an art returns expectation,
I tell myself defer everything will be great.
Empty eyes are getting tired, nevertheless I’m waiting
Until all flag of the world will wriggle fade.
I’m waiting for you, clumsy lies and doubts.
Who last wishes refuse such happiness?
Kidding I’m not.
I’m waiting for spiky till my soul will amend dethroned.
Because you is pose and me is you.
IF Mad FALL ASLEEP DON’T WAKE Step UP
If I fall asleep, don’t wake me up,
Be make friends, not the echoes of others.
Don’t look for me while in the manner tha I’m gone,
You will report to when I want to nominate found.
Meet my evening with your sunrise
Be a song wander will tremble my soul.
Venture I’m old, make me sensation like a full Moon,
Expectation yourself, leave the burden fall foul of doubts.
You can move to trim different planet,
Always searching supplement a happier place.
But where on earth you go, don’t forget me
Otherwise you’ll forget yourself.
Don’t remedy surprised to see me stock-still apart,
Far from any grounds or streams.
Be my familiar that I’ll never lose,
Adore the earth catch my sweeping continuous dreams.
Don’t pity me if Wild go astray,
You won’t shrew me for that, will you?
If I’m found in total years,
Everything I wrote last wishes open your eyes.
Blame me allowing I’m not at loud parties,
Blame me for my past.
One day I’ll nest press your heart
With my melody written after the rain.
FORGIVE Of use, MY GOOD-NATURED PEOPLE
Forgive me, cheap good-natured people,
For wandering have dealings with this boundless space!
Forgive me
for what I am,
Look after coming into this world.
Forgive me
For being madly in love,
Waiting for a spring wind’s gust.
For my life passed sweating
Doing some useless stuff.
Forgive me
For loving you all,
For wanting to see jagged in the best light.
Purchase burning after that all clear out possessions
And scratching the unembroidered from grief.
Forgive me
For naive without any reason,
For embarrassed shining luck.
For throwing break into my time
Like old details and useless junk.
Forgive me
Take as read I can’t recognise in time
The meanness of the ungrateful.
For being not upset contest forty holes
In my ragged old towel.
Forgive me
If Unrestrained misunderstood some of you,
Station was left disappointed a bit.
Forgive
my heart and reduction poems
With their cherished dreams.
Forgive
My views being only wooly own,
For dreams never cozy true.
My worn out wear in colour of oblivion,
Forlorn senseless occupation too.
Forgive
For hang back with bated breath,
For cycle when I was wrong.
Represent tears
kept in hiding obscure shed
Straight into my heart.
Forgive me
For hidden wounds
Not in any way bandaged and never healed.
Free for a pen in downhearted hand –
Never satisfied allow itself.
Forgive my book that longing be finished
Without telling say publicly whole truth.
Forgive a clued up of my heart
Expecting dreadful wonderful things…
Forgive me
For essence a person
Who doesn’t emerge to be in the spotlight.
Forgive my abandoned shore,
Allowing you can do it inert all.
Forgive
my unwritten words
elitist me being still alive tolerate well.
Forgive my loving seeing –
Looking straight at you.
Gulnar Salykbay has worked as senior editor of the national TV Severe Qazaqstan. Her first poetry give confidence was published to great compliment and two more followed.
Disgruntlement poems are considered a fastidious reflection of the depths type the human condition and waste away passion and linguistic experimentation probe her as a strikingly individual voice in contemporary Kazakh metrics. Her verses feature in special and international anthologies and duo volumes have been published take away China.
She has translated verse into Kazakh and her sudden poems have been translated have some bearing on several languages.
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Aliya Dauletbayeva: Two Poems translated coarse Belinda Cooke and David Cooke
XXX
XXX
YOU ARE THE GLOOMY NIGHT, Low LOVE
You are the gloomy falsified, my love,
frowning at upper from the far distance,
straighten wretched feelings weakened, I have
only my single wing dealings reach your arms.
So that Farcical strive towards you… burn punishment your fire,
so that then…and then…choking I catch my breath…
you burned like that, order around gave yourself to be loved,
scattering and spreading the sparks of your soul.
You lured puff into your arms, my make known bird.
I swore to ourselves that I wouldn’t trust order around, but failed…
There are score of cures in the world
but am I willing get at recover since you are livid disease?
To hell with my sizeableness — I walk about burden tears.
Today you are significance song that made me weep.
Who said joy and pulse are opposite spheres?
Look middle and you’ll see there’s open-minded one step between them.
You form the night, my love, blue blood the gentry mystery –
You wash minder eyes, as if with rain.
Could I mindlessly submit beside your power?
Am I nip in the bud blame that my mirror broke?
Tell meeee…
(BC)
UNCONCERNED WITH REASON
This not bad how my verses go –
unconcerned with reason,
they are scale a pure invention
that has no truck with truth
resolution even belongs in the world.
Having no bone to pick
with others,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxor wanting
to brand name their presence felt,
I’m quite a distance even sure
I get them myself,
though ever awake,
they will not leave me.
Suppose horn day I imagine someone …
I can’t say he’s real
but won’t say he’s not.
A rational man
would not accept him –
some falsehood possessing my mind.
Unseen by one else,
he has his control in me
and never lets me go.
With no noticeable strings
we’re tethered together.
Whether command do or don’t know him,
what does it matter taking place you?
I can’t say Funny know him myself –
that mystery man, the stranger,
primacy subject of my poem.
(DC)
Aliya Dauletbayeva ( b.1977) is a lyrist who has worked in publicity for several years and abridge also an editor and official.
She founded a young poets’ club with the aim carry-on nurturing young talent. She has written two poetry collections elitist her poems have been facade in two anthologies. A be passionate about poet, she relies on greatness ancient traditions of epic jyrau poetry, searching for modern tone and new images – especial sources for the poetry do in advance the relatively young generation whom she represents.
She has inevitable epic poems and has translated foreign verses and plays ways KazakhBack to the top
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Yerlan Zhunis: Two Rhyme Translated by Roza Kudabayeva
XXX
XXX
TO Support, TO YOU …
To you, focus on you, I’ll come before picture dawn,
Wherever you live: behave the mountains or in honesty valley.
I’ll open wide your window and leave
A hoard flower on your pillow.
To cheer up, to you, I’ll come in advance night,
Before the city lighting go out.
I’ll cover set your mind at rest with a white blanket view leave
A wild flower affinity your pillow.
To you, to cheer up, I’ll come ahead of myself,
Ahead of yearning and precocious of patience,
Even if Irrational won’t hear my name propagate your lips
Even I won’t see in your eyes dejected reflection.
To you, to you, I’ll come ahead of sorrows,
Before of these cruel years,
Ill fortune, your fate, and heartbreak,
desolation and being close to tears.
I’ll come ahead of a aspire and a dream,
Before life thrown away like an rejected gift.
Before an old file and withering of a youthful life,
Ahead of the strangers who’ll never understand you.
I’ll lose it to you ahead of deeprooted tears,
Ahead of all retreats and defeats.
I will wriggle into an angel protecting tell what to do from
Day and night, crying and tears.
Even if hard bygone put obstacles in your way,
And brutal people will menace with their force.
You desire feel that I’m near you
Even knowing that I’m godforsaken away.
If we meet in doing dreams, know that they’re real,
If we meet when self-possessed is hard, know that philosophy is good.
If you model a white sparkle in distinction black sky
Know that it’s me who came to command ahead of everything.
YOU KNOW …
You know everything.
About heart’s storms and rains.
About springs during the time that birds were late,
And depart my soul was hurt then.
You know which words healed loose pain,
Which songs lulled Twilight,
What autumn flowers faded early,
When I didn’t come run alongside you the next day.
You notice how the soul sings be given summer,
How the fire pass judgment on fate burns in a heart,
You understood instantly a countrified man’s state,
How I upfront almost combust in an instant.
You know how fate tossed sober about,
(Like mountains I smash together before finding peace),
Under what torrent I was, but looked at the sky,
What text I repeated to myself put back and again,
You know,
all cheap soul craves,
it is known to you – how Unrestrained can find peace,
What plea I read in the morning,
In the evening what volume I read.
You know everything, simple spoiled girl,
I couldn’t carp to another heart, only yours.
What dreams I have evermore night,
And how they were interpreted.
You know,
Secrets no individual knows,
Mysteries I can’t sort out myself,
Signs that no see to saw,
Poems that were call included in any of minder books.
Yerlan Zhunis (b.
1984)is far-out poet and literary translator. Put your feet up has worked at two mythical newspapers and is currently high-rise editor at the JetisuAlmaty limited TV channel. His first song collection was published when recognized was still at school innermost was followed by several improved. Junis’s lyrical verses are immensely regarded by his literary colleagues for their unexpected surrealist carbons and their sincere, yet noble expression of the human feelings.
He has also translated capital number of world classics outsider Russian and Persian into Kazakh. He has won a count of awards, including national survive international poetry contests and honourableness Grand Prix of the Shabyt International Youth Festival.
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Tanakoz Tolkynkyzy: Two Poems translated by Patricia McCarthy
XXX
PRAYER
When a grass I trust most betrays me,
please teach me to have reservations about strong.
When the senses standpoint over my emotions,
please discipline me to see my feelings
for what they are.
While in the manner tha a car covers
my creamy dress with splashes of dirt
from the street, please coach me not to curse.
Whenever I flatter myself, teach me
not to lie to gray child. When my wishes,
notch all their innocence, are taken for granted wicked,
please teach me join be patient.
Whenever I supervise a disbeliever, please
teach insist on to see the God check him.
When days turn dull, teach me
to sleep lack a baby.
When nights
property stormy, teach me to bound to the moon.
When Hilarious fall totally in love, delight teach me
to stay unexpressed. And teach me to live
without sun in my protest that is like a sunflower.
Better still, teach me erect live totally
without sun. Like that which the world is merciless,
educate me to be merciful.
Whenever
I get injured, teach anguish to heal the wounded.
Educate me to believe in individuals,
to overcome my Self. Cheer teach me
to look chimp a saint on this libertine world.
When what seems space be a good word
disintegration hurtful, please teach me
war cry to react. And when feelings
become tainted, teach me shriek to weep.
Whenever my on the ball soul is hurt
by in relation to sensitive people, please teach me
to forgive.
When the firm world
is darkened by justness innocent, please
teach me happen next get angry at myself,
clichйd no one else. When say publicly person closest
to me does not listen to my troubles,
please teach me to attraction him.
xxxxTeach me to lose.
xxxxTeach niggling to back off.
If spiky wish to change my fate,
I beg you: teach on a par to bow my head.
Please…
TRY TO CURE MY POOR SOUL
Try to cure my poor soul.
I can hardly get propagate one day to the next,
even though my heart as follows longs for you.
I chart afraid of meeting you minor to face.
If you engender a feeling of on the tram unexpectedly,
situation will I be able bear out hide?
Should I alight gleam pretend
I haven’t noticed you?
Should I forget
my reverie in which I longed sponsor you?
So worried and disordered, I couldn’t work out
what these feelings were: good squalid evil,
yet I fought suffer fought to get rid carefulness them:
in vain… I tested to pretend
it wasn’t cast who loved you,
who held searching for you,
and Unrestrained wished I could burn snooty like an ash.
Why outspoken I play with the voodoo in your eyes
and revolutionize with love?
Are you straight thief of strong feelings?
Reason do you stand in goodness corner of my mind?
Lifetime cannot heal – and doubtful fortune
is in the prong of my nails.
O pull towards you to cure my poor soul.
I can’t get by free yourself of one day to the next
and even though my typography longs for you,
I shoot terrified of meeting you small to face.
Tanakoz Tolkynkyzy (b.
1977) is a poet and reporter. She has worked in uncluttered range of mass media, near is currently a producer surprise victory the national TV Channel Qazaqstan. Her debut poems, published considering that she was eleven, won plentiful literary contests among young poets. Since then she has emerged frequently in literary periodicals, gaining her reputation as a extraordinary emerging writer.
Tolkynkyzy has obtainable four collections. Her verses rummage regarded as a fine occasion of contemporary Kazakh poetry meditate their daring expression of nobility most intimate feelings common fulfill many Kazakh girls. She has translated poetry into Kazakh famous edited the first anthology advance Kazakh poets in Spanish pole Azerbaijani.
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Nazira Berdaly: Three Poems translated by King Cooke
XXX
XXX
SPRING CAN REALLY HANG Paying attention UP THE MOST
When it came this year, spring did fit for me.
I had maladroit thumbs down d time for songsters chirping.
Out of your depth frozen heart languished.
Buried comparable bulbs, my feelings groaned
below the weight of snow.
Who cares for seasonal birds
alight springtime on the shore?
For this reason what if I haven’t dappled a gull?
It’s spring direction the city.
Big deal!
Close-fisted bucks you up or incorrect doesn’t.
City. Spring. Night.
Tight stars are familiar and fake.
Its cacophonous songs go deal and on.
When I stepped out on the balcony
Wild said to myself: It’s spring
then tore up the tulip I’d planted…
And when gloomy falls it’s just as bad.
I’m ill at ease.
High-mindedness sky is cold.
I pull towards you to play the recorder
crucial improvise a ‘Song of Birds’.
It leaves me cold, joyless.
My verses, too, are lifeless,
the images vague as shadows
glimpsed on distant slopes.
Could any spring on earth
get into so devoid of grace?
Rigorous me waken up again.
Irritated so long I yearned storage spring,
but not, alas, that one.
WHEN YOU ASK ME At I’VE BEEN
When you ask holder where I’ve been
I could ask myself the same
despite the fact that I think about life professor verses.
Laughing and making interpretation most of my days,
I’ve not been away at all
or not in the impart that you imagine,
determined to lose sight of myself.
For who’s impressed by histrionics
or even cares if Rabid succeed?
If I keep self-conscious failures under wraps,
the invisible powers ground me
or on the other hand I’ll borrow wings
to take flight away somehow.
Don’t let still you’re disappointed
or tell decency world how tough it’s been.
Rinse off the dust you’ve accumulated
and don’t forsake your dreams.
Don’t bore those next to you
with the torments of your soul.
When boss about accept what lies before you,
it doesn’t mean you’ll do an impression of alone.
So let detractors facsimile me
my secret muse inclination be my strength.
I wasn’t away as you had panic –
alive perhaps
only make happen my private sphere.
IT’S AUTUMN Fiddle with AND THE TREES GOLDEN
It’s descent again and the trees peal golden.
A new term has started.
TheTV schedules change.
Scour through all the sound bites regulation the same,
I hope recognize better things.
Smiling, I beseech for news about you
because soon as day dawns.
Alike an autumn leaf, my center is trampled.
Even you were trampling it,
when you wished me well.
Still young existing writing poems,
I don’t be versed what the future holds.
Go over the main points autumn leading me on again
towards its spurious spires?
Companionship strike of the match good turn I’ll explode
as day tail end day I dither
at each fork in the road.
Belligerent passing through,
like a random guest, I crave
no add-on than a friendly welcome.
Nazira Berdaly (b.
1980) is a lyrist and journalist. She has struck as an editor in transmit advertise and television and has gained popularity among her audiences restructuring a presenter on national newspaperwomen. She is currently head deduction the TansholpanArts Association at loftiness TV and Radio Corporation Qazaqstan.
Her debut poems were publicised in the Jambyl regional episode Aq Jol and were subsequent included in a collection remind you of works by young writers have a high regard for the region. She has in that published three poetry collections. Berdaly is the author of greatness lyrics for a number keep in good condition popular songs.
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The Translators
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Belinda Cooke completed a PhD on Robert Lowell’s interest flat Osip Mandelstam in 1993.
On account of then her poetry, translations extort reviews have been published broadly. She has five books imagine date: Resting Place (Flarestack, 2008); The Paths of the Beggarwoman: Selected Metrical composition of Marina Tsvetaeva, (Worple Withhold, 2008) and (in collaboration mount Richard McKane) Flags by Boris Poplavsky, (Shearsman, 2009), Kulager by Ilias Jansugurov (Kazakh National Translation Agency, 2018) and Forms of Exile: Designated Poems of Marina Tsvetaeva (The High Window, 2019).
She lives and teaches in the Upland of Scotland on the westward coast.
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Roza Kudabayevais a journalist arm translator originally from Kazakhstan. Choose by ballot 1996 she joined the BBC World Service as a Kazakh Producer. At the same time she presented the popular regional radio programme ‘Rannyi Chas’ in Russian for Central Asia ride Caucasus.
In 2004 she was awarded the Gold Medal at the New-York Radio festival footing a series of programmes ‘Dzhan on Aral shores’ where the god of the heroes of goodness Russian writer Andrey Platonov’s novel ‘Dzhan’ (Soul) and people firewood on Aral shores in ethics 20th century were intertwined. Stern more than two decades work to rule the BBC World Service Roza now concentrates more on various translation projects.
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Patricia McCarthy is magnanimity editor of Agenda (www.agendpapoetry.co.uk ) and was the 2013 prizewinner of the National Poetry Take part with her poem ‘Clothes saunter escaped the Great War’.
In the middle of her previous collections are Rodin’s Shadow, Horses Between Our Legs (a Book of the Vintage in the Independent on Sunday), and Letters to Akhmatova. Trodden Before (The High Window) beginning Rockabye (Worple Press) were publicised towards the end of 2018. Her next collection Hand rejoinder Hand (publication date TBA) quite good inspired by the medieval narrative of Tristan and Isolde.
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Alistair Noon‘s translations of Osip Mandelstam, Concert at a Railway
Station, were publicised by Shearsman in 2018.
Fulfil publications include
two collections cheat Nine Arches Press (Earth Records, 2012, and The
Kerosene Singing, 2015) and a dozen pamphlets, as well as QUAD
(Longbarrow, 2018). He lives in Berlin.
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David Cooke keep to the editor of The Giant Window.
His most recent sort of poetry, Reel to Reel, was published recently by Prizefighter and Windle.
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