The mood

Нигяр НУРУЛЛА | Поэзия

The mood

Cats lie on trash bins with tales pointed south,
Arabic Simoom blow high up to the heavens.
The gawkers today better shut their own mouths,
The curious sand will get under the palates.

Cars hide under canvas that is set adrift,
Dust busily gets under every eyelid,
The nature presents with a very harsh gift,
The heart in the chest just refuses to beat.

Today I don’t love me and I don’t love you,
I will be the wind that makes all the roofs shatter,
Don’t mind me, friends. I am feeling blue,
And verses are born that don’t really matter.


I will never forsake you. I promise.
I’ll become a strong wall for support.
And my prayer for you will be flawless,
It will soften the heart of the Lord.

All the fails, misery, the addiction
And the poison of doubts and words;
Concentration of toxic affliction
And the illness that bothers and hurts.

We just left them behind. We have managed,
And the manifold price has been paid.
We have washed off all sin and all damage,
And then slept just like kids in the shade.

There is no looking back and no fear,
New inviting alluring plans.
Through all hardships the stars are so near,
We will go firmly forth hand in hand.

I won’t leave you just like you demanded,
Oh if only the Lord keeps me in.
Some may slander that we are enchanted,
But allegiance to charms is akin.


I feel the ground crumbling under,
The whole world drifts before my eyes.
And mournful notes in ears pounder,
And requiem, with organ bass it cries.
And tears fill the throat with thick glue,
As temples crush each thought like sledges.
Lord, Lord, please, maybe it’s not true!
Oh, fate, so sharp and evil are your edges.
And blood to heart like ambulance broke through,
There has to be a better hospital! Come on!
But inner voice is shouting to you,
Blood curdling shriek. Our mom is gone.

Monologue with RasulRza


We shall meet each other again,
Oh I do have something to say.
But for now I’m like a free flame,
I will fly so far and away.
Blue waves move like camels beneath,
And head camel impatiently waits.
With white spittle all over his teeth,
He is rushing his caravan mates.
And camels all from small to grown,
They are covered in will that is blue.
They carry their white marble load,
Barrel-chested they are moving through.
Sister sea is too tight in its shores,
They are guarding her and watching over.
But her heart really longs to be yours,
Over borders she wants to cross over.
Salty lips of the sea will remember,
Kiss of love but it meant farewell.
Gilavar, the rejected contender,
Being jealous to ashes it fell.
And the shoreline looks like fields of gold,
Feet are sinking so deep in the sand.
And the footprints in that yellow mold
Look like gold bars that were shaped by hand.
Here and there just like toys in the childhood
Are the sea shells all scattered around.
«Ring of turquoise», that beautiful sound,
In my ear are singing so loud.
Farewell, oh, my sea, my beloved,
You breed poetry deep in your womb.
So inspired, encouraged and loved,
He devotes his verses to you.


You won’t let me take my eyes off of you,
I sense trouble. The feeling won’t go.
It’s Fort Erk with its dark and grey curfew,
I by touch go along those walls.
Something’s real and some things seem real,
It is night time and it is pitch dark.
I feel the Fatherland as I come near,
Shield of giants and their landmark.
Heroes of Tabriz, warriors revived,
Soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder.
Dead but still very much alive,
Death to our enemy, the weapon holder.

I heard someone say, see the snow,
It’s a daybreak, the night shadow hides.
My wandering thoughts now go,
To mountain ridges and heights.
They stumble and fall but proceed,
With lips cracked bloody from thirst.
They look up to the snowy peaks,
I see the shining splendor of Kirs.
Karabakh! An eternal peace song,
A priceless present, my tar, my kaman!
Where Uzeir’s star has been born.
Where worked Vagif and Natavan,
Khan, Jabbar and Seid, and Bulbul
Drew the strength for their voices and words.
You are the poetry wings of Rasul
His apogee, his powerful verse.
I’m looking for Khan’s daughter’s spring,
To refresh with the life-giving stream.
Shusha, you look so different I think,
Shusha, oh, you are lovely to me.
Is it really you there, a beauty in white,
With a powerful Karabakh steed?
Through the Mugan plain swiftly you ride,
Massive clouds of dust at your heels.
And you roam the field all alone
Trampling the barren deserted land.
Memories used to hold on to headstones,
Now they have been uprooted and maimed.
Ghastly bore has evermore silenced
Songs of Karabakh nightingales
All the richness of natural colors
Is devoured by bloody red shade.
Prophetess-history, think and tell me —
How much suffering has Shusha faced?
Let us count the shell-holes and measure
The amount of sorrow through ages.
From time out of mind, our greenlands,
Our own Karabakh have been invaded
By the faithless Dashnaky Armenians
Though their ashes have been disgraced.
Crooked criminals, crows cawing
Dreadful slander around the world.
Sargsyan digs a pit for his own.
By his own, he had been spit on.

The world is silent, as if bewitched by evil,
Blinded and deafeningly dumb.
May each curse fall on the heads of the vandals.
May God’s punishment hand find them
Dashnaky neo-fascism to fall.
May martyrs of 18 years with still warm,
Mother’s milk on their lips as they fell,
May martyrs silently looking on grim
At the comfortless faces of kids,
As orphans stroke pictures of their fathers gone dim,
May martyrs, in higher places find rest.
Karabakh presses the flag to him.
Azerbaijan, Karabakh!
Is the prayer rising up from his lips.

I will visit Goychay in the spring
And make peace with my wandering thoughts
The son of Rza, RasulIbragim
Writes his soul out blackened with smoke
“Hear black winds that howl and wail
Feel your motherland’s black ordeal
Slit the throats of every warfare —
I’ll sacrifice seven black sheep”.
It is crowded on the Olympus of Poetry,
Every chosen one is a gift for eternity.
Evidently, the God of Poetry kindly
Gave us Rasul, his emissary

About the author:

Nigyar Nurulla KyzyKhalilova, writing under the pen name NigyarNurulla. She graduated the Azerbaijan Medical University in 1984. She is an M.D. in the field of gynecology and obstetrics. Was published in newspapers, such as Youth of Azerbaijan, Our Century, various prose and poetry almanacs and anthologies, issued in Azerbaijan at different times. She now gets published in the Literary Azerbaijan magazine.  Editor and author of a prose anthology called Earthly Vale of Tears (2011). In April 2016 my poem, translated by me from Russian into English, made the anthology of the International Festival in Austin, USA. With great satisfaction she awaits the next issue of the Russian Bell magazine, where her poetic brainchild will take its place.

Рассказать о прочитанном в социальных сетях:

Подписка на обновления интернет-версии журнала «Российский колокол»:

Читатели @roskolokol
Подписка через почту

Введите ваш email:

eşya depolama
uluslararası evden eve nakliyat
evden eve nakliyat
uluslararası evden eve nakliyat
sarıyer evden eve nakliyat