Poems by Tarana Turan Rahimli (Azerbaijan) / Translator: Sevil Gulten

Poems by Tarana Turan Rahimli (Azerbaijan)


The feelings at the “Blood bank”

The smell of blood had settled
Both on the floor and on the ceiling.
There are pictures on the walls
Which are able to froze the blood in the veins.
On the other side of the window
Firstly the hopes
Then the prayers were falling.
It was possible to read from their appearance
What was inside of the people.
The destiny was weakening those
Who were in need of blood.
The heart of the doctor
Who was visiting the patients
Had run over.
The grief
Named as thalassaemia and haemophilia
Were thirsty for the blood.
The fates that was riding
On the halter of the death
Were at a step’s distance to the death angel.
The hopes that were not sowed were growing
My God, what purgatory is it?
Here a grave and blood
Are on the eye of the scales
For the first time in my life
I saw the color of the grief
On the face of a baby
Who was unaware of its grief.


A poem is a divine word

A poem is a divine word
It can’t be said at any moment.
It can’t come to life
At any moment you want.
A poem must firstly grow
In the uterus of the spirit.
Then it must be perfect
Then it must either enter the heart
Or must turn to ashes.
In order to write
A drop of poem
Your senses and feelings
Must run like streams
A poem must be written
With the blood of the heart
A poet must be seen
Inside of each hemistich.


Translator: Sevil Gulten



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s