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.
* * *Cyrillic script of sandsin the sand clockis similarto the barkhans ,dunes,ridgesand evento the…
*** I dreamed of your eyes - islands of loneliness in the ocean of human…
While night declaims, essential peacefully melts, dissolves, disappears in the cloudless air of life-giving oblivion.…
*** The last city, of the last star. Holidays of happiness. Years of doubt, years…
*** Childhood – flower pollen, garden of time is fading, prairie of expectations, silk grass,…