Nigar Arif (Azerbaijan)

 
Nigar Arif (Azerbaijan)
 
Nigar Arif was born in 1993 on the 20th of January in Azerbaijan. She studied at Azerbaijan State Pedagogical University in the English faculty in 2010- 2014 and graduated from “III Youth Writers’ School” in “Azerbaijan Writers’ Union” in 2016- 2017. Nigar Arif is a member of “Azerbaijan Writers’ Union”, “World Youth Turkish Writers’ Union” and the “International Forum for Creativity and Humanity” in Morocco. Her poems have been partially translated into English, Turkish, Russian, Persian, Chinese , Portuguese , Montenegro, Spanish and have been published in different countries. She was a participant of “ IV LIFT- Eurasian Literary Festival of Festivals“ which was held in Baku in 2019 and “30 Festival Internacional De Poesia De Medillin” in 2020 which was held in Colombia, “Panaroma International Literary Festival 2020” in India at an online platform. She participated at the” Word trip Europe” project, “100 poets around the World for love” and “ Fourth Global Poet Virtual Meeting 2020” and so on…
 
 
Things That I Feel A Desire to Have
 
If I can keep a thing
that I feel desire to have,
If I take its time and
can hamper it a bit…
If I can just take a seat
today, in this street.
And can question one by one
my old and old habits…
If I make merry to my heart’s content,
with the filled wine glass.
And fall into thinking,
If I have a small dog,
That barks at those
whom I put up with,
Or if a cat scratches
at whom I lost faith in…
if the old years come back
and wake up the sleepy past…
If you be mine again,
If I break the rules
of the love games again,
If we are pig-headed
If I am “as pure as the driven snow”-
as you called me like that.
If I am a little bit younger
And a bit babe in the wood…
 
 
Humans’ rain
 
Here is the city,
people break out and leave…
Here are the snows and rains,
washing their footprints…
Even the sun shines in every morning,
Winds blow and sleek
Nothing can remove those ,
Nothing can be changed…
People soak up to its memory
from its pocky face.
They fetch their colors with themselves
keeping the city pale.
Everywhere is dull,
Everything turns to a grey tale.
People rain and rain falls from their eyes
in every single day
And those getting wet in the heart of this city
who can’t run away
Humans are raining cats and dogs,
Ambulances revolve like the umbrellas
under the sick drops…
Either the nights or the noons
wobble from their homes.
The whole world tumble from its place
and falls…
Day by day, week by week
Streets become empty
The roads, cafes see the end.
The shoulders of the heavy shops
are going to bend…
The huge buildings, the small houses
between the city’s arms
peeping out with fear at the naked depth
that idles in the villages, travels to the countries
Lonely trees are getting bored
The flowers, birds and meadows
from the dusty feet of this city
missing of the man
Who knows?
May be in their own languages
they even rail
this damn, teasing quarantine.
Now we know, mom
Cities and countries
can also catch the diseases…
What can i say?
Don’t worry,
everything will be okay.
There are hopes
that draw out till the hair of this city…
There are our dreams putting the hands to its forehead
to check the heat…
May be we found the best treatment, mom,
Love is the best engraftment
as you always said…
 
 
At the Door of Parting
 
I don’t know when
we were parted,
How and when
our love was ended?
Maybe
we shouldn’t have met
from the beginning…
Were we really bowed down
the love and desire?
Maybe we were children
in the hands of love.
And those hands parted us…
Maybe…
maybe I am wrong,
We did grow it ourselves
We grew up just each other.
And what parting was,
what was the parting then?
Parting was the bitter tea,
Parting was like bane.
When sleepless night
attempting to fall asleep
Parting was the morning.
A tender word I found
in the book I read
was a handful sadness.
Parting was worse
than the boring death!
I don’t know,
Where was the door of parting?
It’s like I knew,
but so what?
From now,
I won’t come back anymore,
and you won’t open that door.
 
 

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