Rakhim Karim (Kyrgyzstan)

Rakhim Karim, Kyrgyzstan

Rakhim Karim (Karimov) is an Uzbek-Russian-Kyrgyz poet, writer, publicist, translator. He was born in 1960 in the city of Osh (Kyrgyzstan). Graduate of the Moscow Gorky Literary Institute (1986). Member of the National Union of Writers of the Kyrgyz Republic, member of the Russian Writers’ Union, official representative of the International Federation of Russian-Speaking Writers in Kyrgyzstan (London-Budapest), member of the Board of the IFRW, laureate of the Republican Literary Prize named after. Moldo Niyaz. The author of the national bestseller “Kamila”, the winner of the second prize of the International Book Forum Open Central Asia Book Forum & Literature Festival – 2012 (Great Britain), the nominee for the Russian national literary awards Poet of the “Year -2013”, “Poet of the Year 2014”, “Writer of the Year -2014 “,” Poet of the Year 2015 “,” Heritage- 2015 “,” Heritage – 2016 “, the Prize for them. S. Yesenin (2016). In 2017 he was awarded the silver medal of the Eurasian literary contest LiFFт in the nomination of a Eurasian poet. Co-chairman of the Council of Writers and Readers of the Assembly of Peoples of Eurasia. Author of  about 30 books published in Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Great Britain, Canada, Romania, Greece, in Uzbek, Russian, Kyrgyz, Tajik, English, Romanian, Greek.

Performance

I play every day the role of life in the morning,
And every God’s day goes my that show.
The stage is illuminated by two floodlights:
The moon and the sun: at night sleepy only intermission.
I try to show talent and skill,
In place of everything: both the audience and the conductor .
From the scene will remove, but once – nature, –
At any time, we are the Creator – Producer.
The main purpose of life is to play your part,
Leave to have a name for yourself forever.
We ourselves are artists, spectators, this act
Give an assessment of the chance to each other, man!

Love is like a bomb

When you hear one name,
It’s like a bomb explodes inside of you.
Hence, the former love is still alive,
And somewhere it is hidden like a mine.
And he waits, he will not wait for that day,
when you step back on it.
Love wants to blow your heart again,
How is the atomic bomb – Nagasaki ?!
How can you live now, being afraid of that name ?!
Staying away from the mine in your own soul ?!
Love as to destroy, neutralize,
How to save a gallant sapper ?!
After all, her name is now like a button, like a cap
from a grenade? !!!

Native poems

My poems are my relatives,
There is no one nearer anyone in the world with me.
How do I believe all your secrets,
And I can talk to you heart to heart.
I grew up with you, matured together,
Mine you are faithful reliable friends.
You are crying with me, and rejoice, sorry,
You were not happy: I was sad.
I do not know how life wasted without you,
I am not separated from you, God sent me to you.
You – day and night with me: slept in verse,
Poems woke up: He became a man!
You replaced your mother, you were a sister,
You replaced father, brother to me.
You are my angels, sent by fate,
The candles were always in the dark for me.
Hope, support, strength –
Saving my spirit like a magic amulet.
I will call you relatives today, –
Dear, close, I will say thank you!
Do not leave my winged spirit …
Please live with me until the last days.
Without you it’s as if I have no legs, no arms,
Beating heart you, my breath.

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