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şeirlər poems
GREETINGS TO MY POET!
1
In a cold and frigid weather
A poet with his mother
And a mother with his poet son
Became the prisoners of oppressive pain
On the same day,
At the same time...
The next morning they came
To take the poet for execution
And put aside everything the God
To listen the sound of his heart
The last song
The last beating of his heart
But, wait!
Hold on, please, said the poet.
Hang me not with these strange hands
Let me hang myself with my own hands.
And they let!
Like bullets, he went farthest
And one step closer to God
Smiled into eyes of Death
One step below its eyes.
And Death tastes the cold sweat!
With his hands the poet
Put the noose around his head.
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