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şeirlər poems

SONGS ABOUT
GARA MELIK
I
Catching fire from the strange land
The sons of this land will never warm up
But for them is warm
The cold breast of black stones.
Hi, the land of my father,
This black gravestone
Being cried over and forgotten
And being forgotten
Without sheding
two drops of tears.
This grave is full of hollows
Of the tears shed before.
Its ground is on fire,
But the gravestone is cold...

Speak, you land of my father!
The paintings painted for rainy days
On your black stone
will speak and sing song
on the saz of Ashug.
And the strings have hardened like a stone.
The mist of these roads did not go away,
The dawn of the sky has not cracked yet,
The bridge of these rivers was not built
And we still look around.

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