Abdukakhor Kosim (Абдукаххор Косим) – Tajikistan

Abdukakhor Kosim (Абдукаххор Косим) – Tajikistan
Poet, translator, singer-writer, publicist, journalist “Excellence in Education and Science of the Republic of Tajikistan” (“Excellence in Culture of the Republic of Tajikistan.” , higher pedagogical education, author of more than 100 songs in the Tajik and Russian languages, 12 books, participated in the Anthology of modern Eurasian writers and more than 20 collections.
His works have been translated into English, Spanish, Chinese, French, German, Serbian, Portuguese, Turkish, Azerbaijani, Persian and other languages.
Chief editor of the newspaper “Khidoyat” of the People’s Democratic Party of Tajikistan.
Co-chairman of the literary council of the International Union of Writers of the Eurasian Peoples’ Assembly, member of the International Union of Writers, member of the International Confederation of Journalists, coordinator of the International Council of the International Union of Writers. Member of the Eurasian Creative Guild. Silver medalist of the elevator festival, St.
Winner of the Grand Prix (Outstanding Winners) of the 1st World Satellite Television Poetry Competition 2020, Beijing, “Sergei Yesenin Medal-2020”, “Order of the Mahatma-2020”
Grand Prix of the International Festival named after de Richelieu “The Brilliant Duke”, etc.
In the poems draw the pearl of meaning one after another,
Poet, extract zam-zam water of the depth of meaning.
As a cable transmit the sparkle of suffering,
Honesty, you are taking the load of whole world.
Sometimes as an artist in the castle of dreams,
In beauty draw face of you-beloved as a dew.
Next time in the dessert of sorrow and mysteries,
Pull the caravan of grieves with the bowed head.
To the God Almighty you sometimes tell you mysteries,
Pull the love parting with the full of tears eyes.
The dense jungle of thought,
So dark and cruel.
I lost my way in it,
Holding the forhead with hands.
Flying my dreams bird,
Seeking its own way.
The dense jungle of thought,
Speaking with my heart.
The dense jungle of thought,
There everywhere are many paths.
From the thought of walk,
Bird of aim awakes upon.
The dense jungle of thought,
Hardly trying to find the way,
If l find the way to light
I thank God.
You know, there isn’t the place of sorrow in my heart,
No place for the darkness of dense forest.
No place for today’s and tomorrow’s grieve,
No place for light on my self-burning candle.
My heart breaks to hundred parts,
My heart breaks to hundred parts.
Love sound doesn’t come to my ears,
No more tear come to my eyes.
Romantic look went through my calm eyes.
Love moments are pleasing of colorful world.
My heart breaks to hundred parts,
My heart breaks to hundred parts.
Why? Maybe you ask me,
Isn’t more extented of perishable world of poets heart?
If breaks to hundred parts, it isn’t the end of love world?
I say-let the poet’s heart be as your heart,
But more sensitive, as it is the mission from God.
Greatness of poet’s heart is that embraces the pain of the world,
If separate to hundred parts, but never don’t die.
Even cries whole life, but bring jolly,
Burns fall in my hearts and bring spring.
To heart of each man brings kindness and peace,
Brings spring in the spring,
Brings flower scattering spring.
Translated into English by Tajik Khaibatullo Shodieva

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