My associations to one of the poems read by my friend, the outstanding Azeri-Turkish poet of our time Mehmet Ismail.
Memories of our old meetings in Paris and Podgorica still warm my soul.
No one knows yet
In a foreign land
sleepless nights
Watching over
Memories
In a foreign land
the days are longer
than the life lived
at home.
Mother used to
used to lap
at my headboard,
now it’s death.
And my mother is waiting,
and the motherland hurries,
The roads are different,
but the same fate.
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