It is unaware of coming autumn or winter,
Still its smile is a bit fearful.
Its wishes and hopes didn’t touch stones,
Its heart is as touchy as a glass.

Still its hopes didn’t become empty,
Its wishes are sleeping in a golden cradle.
At nights angels sing a cradle song to it,
Each morning its dream is interpreted for good.

This love is still three –month old baby
It is setting a way towards longing.
Still it hasn’t reached to its destination
Hey, great Creator, reach out your hand.

I want a lifetime

I want a love,
Like the love of the children
To the children
And to the birds.

I want to hear a pleasant word,
Like the whisper of south-west wind
To the petals of the flowers.

I want a lifetime
Like the lifetime of a good poem.
I want a death
Like the death of a poet.

Translated from Azerbaijani into English by Sevil Gulten