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şeirlər poems
Crying baby he was
With his first breath after being born
Now smiled into eyes of death
And hanged himself.
2
My dear poet, grieving for the world
Holding up this on your shoulders
And mourning for your sufferings
Mourning for the grieves of homeland.
My dear poet – as high as mountain
In the eyes of Death
Died and rebirth from death...
A poet is human, soul like you
Defeated, beaten he can be,
Hanged as a soldier
For the sake of happiness,
For the sake of country.
3
Greetings to my poet
Who was born in light
And found himself in a mist,
Who did good,
But seemed as an evil,
Who is in that unthankful place
For bad luck.
Greetings to my poet
Whose dry brunch was kept,
Healthy branch was cut instead
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