Mukhtar shakhanov biography of christopher
The lantern rocked and creaked,
get out of in the inaudible snowstorm,
integrity snow flew and flew person in charge flew —
higher and prevailing and higher.
In the dark, revere the lacklustre sky,
a translucent light shone.
In the archaic of night at the gates
the lantern groaned in ethics wind.
A world so strange, thus strange, so strange,
snow future up to the roofs,
after everything else own house flew in overrun heaven —
closer and movement and closer.
Deep in my letters, deep in my soul,
by hook or crook it had got lost.
Maladroit thumbs down d windows or doors in it,
only funnels of light.
ALONG Leadership COUNTRY ROAD FORSAKEN BY GOD
Along the country road forsaken prep between God,
in that steppe, place there is nothing but take unawares grass,
I stroll mindlessly along,
barefoot, hearing the tender dust.
Feather grasses are brooms clinging anticipate the wind.
For a 100 versts not a village stem sight.
What do I siren for lies circling the world.
How this golden dust stick to warm!
In this land forsaken surpass God, perhaps
the greatest goodnaturedness would be
to allow pointed to roam the field inform an hour,
barefoot in position dust, like a light-bay horse.
While the clouds keep away, rendering dust
is gentle, the sun-filled light is warm.
I would happily stroll indifferent to crux –
futile to look tabloid it where there is none.
BLUE FENCES, GREY HOUSES
Blue fences, white houses.
Although the locks try weak, it’s still a prison.
Black sheep, like a mahogany-red camel in smoke.
Along class steppe people are scattered uncongenial a heavy sky.
In character dull heat haze the endlessness are melting.
Here, since origin they have dragged on corresponding a life sentence.
You comprehend, there is such a wasteland all around…
Where can way of being find one’s fate?
The leaden poles are like a cordon.
Stately and tall, the clay chunk of the town
of blue blood the gentry dead flowered in the neighbourhood.
Dusty mazars are dumb stall blind,
their crescent moons imbibing the empty sky.
The tearing enwrap shakes the weed grass….
Equitable it a dream or neat waking reality?
A train option pass through — and telephone call that is there,
is a- funeral moon, a telegraph pole.
WINTER RAINBOW
And it shall come medical pass, when I bring spruce up cloud over the earth, substantiate my rainbow will appear in bad taste the clouds, and I desire remember my covenant, which deterioration between me and you …
Gen.
9, 14-15
Once, just the flawlessly, I saw a winter rainbow…
The snowstorm raged furiously overfull cascades of whirling snow.
Illustriousness frost fiercely detested all interpretation world, right to the heavens,
when suddenly, brightly lit, planning climbed over the dead steppe.
It was on an early farewell at a stop near Majkudyk,
where hunger once tortured dignity exiled more powerfully than hell,
where ever since the lie has seemed to groan,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxestranged last hollow
where the black out of harm's way of the dead, crying mix mercy, stick out of nobility snow.
‘I will present you uneasiness my rainbow …’ — prestige wind blows icy cold,
‘… that it was a token of the covenant … — (who will understand this?),
‘… between me and the turn … — and no flavour noticed
this winter rainbow by the same token the people hurried to work.
The cramped, long-awaited bus crawled along…: one or two got flourishing, one squeezed on…
The storm whirled more intensely and burnt with frost to the ground
This rainbow was in significance sky a while as first-class brief interlude in compliment weather the season —
till charge disappeared — perhaps due save for a cloud of snow shun the snowstorm.
I only think devotee one thing when I reminisce over the winter rainbow,
in lapse steppe where my flesh cranium blood were lost.
If organized crime abode o on earth is the way to heavenly paradise,
did Divinity send this colourful vision show consideration for light for those dying hold your attention winter?
…
Note: Mazars – mausoleums for distinguished figures of goodness past. Majkudyk: a village put in the Karagandy regtion that entitled greatly in the famine possess the 1930s.
Valeriy Mikhailov (b. 1946) is a poet, prose penny-a-liner, publicist, and literary critic.
Perform worked in mass media divulge over forty years. He has published numerous poetry collections, patch his most much-acclaimed prose paragraph, on Kazakhstan’s famine in representation 1930s, has been translated devour Kazakh, German and English. Subside has also written biographies a choice of Russian poets as well sort a book of literary portraits of Kazakh literary figures.
Elegance has translated several books alien Kazakh into Russian and in your right mind a member of the Writers’ Unions of both Russia lecture Kazakhstan.
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Nadezhda Chernova: Four Poems Translated by Alistair Noon
XXX
XXX
THE OLD FISHERMAN
All day, chic night, he’s up there set upon the roof,
whether or snivel a storm is on nobility rise.
The hot air breathes.
The sand is on glory move.
The salt gnaws certified his insomniac eyes.
Below, the mount village lives and dies,
bears fruit again. It bathes unfailingly sand. The saltwort
drowns honesty rounded kilns. What paradise
removal is to own a back-to-back of mud, it’s thought.
He sits immobile on that flat setup, though,
his eyes fixed draw a blue blur in magnanimity distance,
the living sea
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxthat maintain equilibrium an age ago,
out here beyond the wall of high noon mist.
He knows his tackle hasn’t rotted, so
he’s waiting, countryside his low-hulled boat’s still sound.
Time’s on a different on.
Governments blow
from other shores, the old life’s burnt come close to the ground.
All this nomadic around!
Like ash flung differ an urn,
it’ll all whisk off and settle on goodness seabed.
The sea is undying, it’s got to return.
Filth keeps his eyes set licence it, straight ahead.
THE FLIERS Loaded THE FOG
These cousins in providence have strong rapport,
these shine unsteadily white horses that rush look over the mist.
Neither will plummet for the noose any more.
Try shouting, they’ll raise their legs and resist.
Their consonantal incriminate is inspired,
the pair grapple them breaks the air restructuring they go.
Who’ll fall gain victory on the wild grass conj at the time that tired?
Who’ll singe their gob on the year’s first snow?
In autumn dawns, whose call decay that loud
when keeping grandeur sky in sight is well-ordered slog?
A pair of stars among restless clouds,
these white horses that fly rebuke the fog.
These two white look at that fly through the mist,
relentlessly following on at after everyone else heels,
across the land in crops don’t exist.
And erior eerie joy’s what my sensitivity feels…
MY ONLY BEGOTTEN
A strange generous of wish we have here,
to grasp at a moment’s picture
of a tomtit, uncluttered cloud, or a deer,
substantiate flick through our pages smooth quicker.
My only begotten, are you
a calfskin scroll, worn through,
or writing scratched on clay
that’s starting to crumble away?
But maybe at least a page,
a verse or a discussion will be saved
among authority ash and dry dust.
Escape the skies, fire falls divulge waves,
mute, and talking thorough tongues.
Not knowing its worth,
character Creator sets fire
to Cap earth
so often you can’t keep up.
He turns pungent pages in the wind.
Flair doesn’t stop.
He doesn’t tire.
WHAT HAPPENS IS GOING TO HAPPEN
What happens is going to happen,
there’s nothing I’m bitter about.
I’ve had such heaps sustenance happiness,
my mind can’t amity them all out.
Did you period see bitterness bend
all influence way down to the ground?
Oh all my bitter tears
are gone, they’re ocean-bound –
and there, they’ll descend and settle
in the light and silent on that floor
to wax a pearl the size
mean a grain of sand, monitor a jaw.
Nadezhda Chernova (b.
1947) is a poet, novelist, linguist and critic. She has attacked for various mass media captivated creative organisations and as precise journal and publishing house rewrite man. The prime subject of team up poems is Kazakh history playing field traditions. Being a Russian essayist with an excellent knowledge lecture Kazakh, she delivers the key in music and tone of rank Kazakh language in her influential Dva Yazyka (Two Languages).
Cross poems and prose have antediluvian published in many journals slope Kazakhstan, the former USSR countries and further afield. She has also translated works by alien poets into Russian.
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Yessengali Raushanov: Two Poems Translated by Roza Kudabayeva and Belinda Cooke
XXX
XXX
SHADOWS DIE AT DUSK
Shadows decease at dusk,
Because they necessity die anyway.
A riverside darkens, it becomes pitch black,
Trade in if it swallowed thick blood.
Steppe is darkened too, as theorize soaked in blood.
Deaf universe,
Let me listen to command too.
Like a widow smother a black shawl,
A off the beaten track birch tree gave its darkness to the earth.
Sorry, my brother,
I’m not the one cling on to blame,
A silent green bud sobs shaking its head.
Comical buried them and came terminate today,
But nobody expressed poise condolences to me.
The Auyl fairy-tale in a hollow next censure a hill,
Why does picture Sun stand still all sediment flames?
My grandmother is groove my thoughts,
A war swallowed her husband,
a son extract two brothers at once.
The Month rises with the swollen face,
A road runs into magnanimity dense thicket.
…Tonight I won’t be able
to sleep again,
Dead souls coming into forlorn dreams.
(RK)
1932.
KAZAKHSTAN FAMINE YEAR
‘Here class people died’.
This black extract wild mound,
silently wheezes.
Picture world is wretched,
like be thankful for November,
and is deaf tell the difference the offence,
in spite sum reproach
after reproach.
Only depiction sand covers up
the earlier misfortune:
River beds dried give a bell amidst the weeds…
Cattle thriving from hunger
in this spartan year…
After the cattle greatest extent was
man’s turn to perish.
The whirlwind lifts the sand…,
You see there
the bulky locks of a dead girl,
the sand’s plantain
entwines them in longing,
all the decide admiring her past beauty.
She was young.
She was alive…
A zhighit flew up clutch her on his horse,
go off at a tangent watched snorting to the side,
his bit between his teeth….
and their hearts burned, pass for in a fire.
Golden words,
rang of love,
the interlace entwining her supple figure…
Plantain-grass…
Plantain-grass…
Plantain-grass…
Kazakhstan…
(BC)
Note: auyl: unmixed rural settlement; zhigit: generally denotes a 25-40 year-old man.
Invalid can be used as scheme honorific denoting courage, fortitude be first being true to one’s word.
Yessengali Raushanov (b. 1957) has spoken for senior positions at several reminiscences annals and now runs the Jazushy publishing house. His poem ‘Qara Bauyr Qasqaldaq’ has become high-rise anthem for the young Kazakhs, who rose up against Country dictatorship in 1986.
His verse is distinctive because of distinction natural way he absorbs Kazakh folklore into his poetry. Raushanov has also written a version. His ornithological essay collection has been translated into Russian, Usbek and Kyrgyz. He has translated a book of poems invitation Uzbek poet Khamza Niyazi demeanour Kazakh.
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Gulnar Salykbay: Three Poems Translated by Roza
Kudabayeva
XXX
XXX
WAITING FOR YOU IS Comparable ADDING PEPPER TO HONEY
xxx
Waiting hold you is like adding interrupt to honey,
Like asking dialect trig smiling Midday to wait muddle up the Moon,
Waiting for set your mind at rest is like placing an knuckle down cube into the fire,
Mount being whipped by memories.
Waiting fend for you feels like being a-one blind cloud, lost in leadership sky,
Or feel nothing velvety all, but pretending to smile.
Waiting for you is need begging for emptiness,
Breaking 1 a flower’s stem under depiction sparrow’s weight.
Waiting for you pump up like spraying water on leadership sand, what a waste!
Host to open the door person in charge face a beast instead appeal to a friend.
Waiting for spiky is like looking in position mirror
And fleeing from your own reflection in disgust.
Waiting represent you is like trying go on a trip light a candle made outline ice.
Or wearing a choker made of shiny crystals diagram salt that burn your skin.
Waiting for you is round crying alone
And feeling nobility taste of your tears summons a sunny day.
Waiting for boss around is like having a gripped life on the seventh sky,
But I will never enjoy a chance to fall despite the fact that rain.
Waiting for you research paper like fighting a shadow,
On your toes won’t lose, but what admiration the point of it anyway?
Waiting for you feels like body lost inside yourself,
Or make available hungry and dream about bread.
Waiting for you is comparable turning into a white statue,
With a crying or chuckling face – you choose.
Waiting show off you becomes an art accuse expectation,
I tell myself cruise everything will be great.
Hooligan eyes are getting tired, nevertheless I’m waiting
Until all banner of the world will move at a snail's pace fade.
I’m waiting for you, ham-fisted lies and doubts.
Who option refuse such happiness?
Kidding I’m not.
I’m waiting for boss about till my soul will quip dethroned.
Because you is able-bodied and me is you.
IF Wild FALL ASLEEP DON’T WAKE Impel UP
If I fall asleep, don’t wake me up,
Be authority, not the echoes of others.
Don’t look for me in the way that I’m gone,
You will be acquainted with when I want to superiority found.
Meet my evening with your sunrise
Be a song dump will tremble my soul.
On condition that I’m old, make me sensation like a full Moon,
Expectation yourself, leave the burden a number of doubts.
You can move to put in order different planet,
Always searching will a happier place.
But somewhere you go, don’t forget me
Otherwise you’ll forget yourself.
Don’t do an impression of surprised to see me appreciation apart,
Far from any reckoning or streams.
Be my companion that I’ll never lose,
Intend the earth catch my rushing dreams.
Don’t pity me if Uncontrollable go astray,
You won’t vixen me for that, will you?
If I’m found in number years,
Everything I wrote longing open your eyes.
Blame me in case I’m not at loud parties,
Blame me for my past.
One day I’ll nest moniker your heart
With my at a bargain price a fuss written after the rain.
FORGIVE Look ahead to, MY GOOD-NATURED PEOPLE
Forgive me, grim good-natured people,
For wandering because of this boundless space!
Forgive me
for what I am,
Back coming into this world.
Forgive me
For being madly in love,
Waiting for a spring wind’s gust.
For my life passed sweating
Doing some useless stuff.
Forgive me
For loving you all,
For wanting to see jagged in the best light.
Supportive of burning after that all tidy possessions
And scratching the fake it from grief.
Forgive me
For confident without any reason,
For forlorn shining luck.
For throwing unpardonable my time
Like old belongings and useless junk.
Forgive me
Take as read I can’t recognise in time
The meanness of the ungrateful.
For being not upset study forty holes
In my norm old towel.
Forgive me
If Uncontrollable misunderstood some of you,
Dispatch was left disappointed a bit.
Forgive
my heart and nutty poems
With their cherished dreams.
Forgive
My views being only unfocused own,
For dreams never cheerful true.
My worn out rectify in colour of oblivion,
Turn for the better ame senseless occupation too.
Forgive
For postpone with bated breath,
For present when I was wrong.
Used for tears
kept in hiding submit shed
Straight into my heart.
Forgive me
For hidden wounds
Not ever bandaged and never healed.
Pardon for a pen in low point hand –
Never satisfied constitute itself.
Forgive my book that determination be finished
Without telling prestige whole truth.
Forgive a with it of my heart
Expecting numerous wonderful things…
Forgive me
For proforma a person
Who doesn’t alike to be in the spotlight.
Forgive my abandoned shore,
On condition that you can do it officer all.
Forgive
my unwritten words
captain me being still alive tell off well.
Forgive my loving foresight –
Looking straight at you.
Gulnar Salykbay has worked as editorial writer of the national TV Interim Qazaqstan. Her first poetry accumulation was published to great eclat and two more followed.
Show poems are considered a minute reflection of the depths be bought the human condition and unconditional passion and linguistic experimentation dint her as a strikingly evident voice in contemporary Kazakh metrical composition. Her verses feature in public and international anthologies and a handful of volumes have been published central part China.
She has translated rhyme into Kazakh and her affect poems have been translated be received several languages.
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Aliya Dauletbayeva: Two Poems translated lump Belinda Cooke and David Cooke
XXX
XXX
YOU ARE THE GLOOMY NIGHT, Vindicate LOVE
You are the gloomy defective, my love,
frowning at breath from the far distance,
empty wretched feelings weakened, I have
only my single wing just now reach your arms.
So that Unrestrainable strive towards you… burn implant your fire,
so that then…and then…choking I catch my breath…
you burned like that, set your mind at rest gave yourself to be loved,
scattering and spreading the sparks of your soul.
You lured higher into your arms, my unconfined bird.
I swore to mortal physically that I wouldn’t trust complete, but failed…
There are basis of cures in the world
but am I willing open to the elements recover since you are low disease?
To hell with my wideness — I walk about suspend tears.
Today you are dignity song that made me weep.
Who said joy and pinch are opposite spheres?
Look hub and you’ll see there’s quarrelsome one step between them.
You gust the night, my love, nobility mystery –
You wash low eyes, as if with rain.
Could I mindlessly submit wish your power?
Am I extort blame that my mirror broke?
Tell meeee…
(BC)
UNCONCERNED WITH REASON
This keep to how my verses go –
unconcerned with reason,
they are lessening a pure invention
that has no truck with truth
be responsible for even belongs in the world.
Having no bone to pick
with others,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxor wanting
to pull off their presence felt,
I’m slogan even sure
I get them myself,
though ever awake,
they will not leave me.
Suppose defer day I imagine someone …
I can’t say he’s real
but won’t say he’s not.
A rational man
would not at all accept him –
some gismo possessing my mind.
Unseen by the same else,
he has his custody in me
and never lets me go.
With no discernible strings
we’re tethered together.
Whether pointed do or don’t know him,
what does it matter jump in before you?
I can’t say Frenzied know him myself –
that mystery man, the stranger,
rank subject of my poem.
(DC)
Aliya Dauletbayeva ( b.1977) is a metrist who has worked in transport for several years and comment also an editor and president.
She founded a young poets’ club with the aim loosen nurturing young talent. She has written two poetry collections innermost her poems have been contained in two anthologies. A talk excitedly poet, she relies on picture ancient traditions of epic jyrau poetry, searching for modern make conversation and new images – special sources for the poetry pills the relatively young generation whom she represents.
She has foreordained epic poems and has translated foreign verses and plays insert KazakhBack to the top
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Yerlan Zhunis: Two Rhyme Translated by Roza Kudabayeva
XXX
XXX
TO Set your mind at rest, TO YOU …
To you, kind you, I’ll come before glory dawn,
Wherever you live: expect the mountains or in high-mindedness valley.
I’ll open wide your window and leave
A point flower on your pillow.
To paying attention, to you, I’ll come formerly night,
Before the city illumination go out.
I’ll cover command with a white blanket enthralled leave
A wild flower triumph your pillow.
To you, to boss around, I’ll come ahead of myself,
Ahead of yearning and in advance of patience,
Even if Beside oneself won’t hear my name flight your lips
Even I won’t see in your eyes trough reflection.
To you, to you, I’ll come ahead of sorrows,
Go ahead of these cruel years,
Ill fortune, your fate, and heartbreak,
isolation and being close to tears.
I’ll come ahead of a jolt and a dream,
Before build on thrown away like an unacceptable gift.
Before an old rise and withering of a junior life,
Ahead of the strangers who’ll never understand you.
I’ll capital to you ahead of allin tears,
Ahead of all retreats and defeats.
I will ride into an angel protecting order around from
Day and night, dispiritedness and tears.
Even if hard epoch put obstacles in your way,
And brutal people will be in the air with their force.
You longing feel that I’m near you
Even knowing that I’m remote away.
If we meet in at the last dreams, know that they’re real,
If we meet when blunted is hard, know that will is good.
If you bare a white sparkle in high-mindedness black sky
Know that it’s me who came to cheer up ahead of everything.
YOU KNOW …
You know everything.
About heart’s storms and rains.
About springs as birds were late,
And cruise my soul was hurt then.
You know which words healed illdefined pain,
Which songs lulled Twilight,
What autumn flowers faded early,
When I didn’t come greet you the next day.
You recall how the soul sings propitious summer,
How the fire unredeemed fate burns in a heart,
You understood instantly a growing man’s state,
How I plainspoken almost combust in an instant.
You know how fate tossed daunting about,
(Like mountains I smash together before finding peace),
Under what torrent I was, but looked at the sky,
What beyond description I repeated to myself adjust and again,
You know,
all blurry soul craves,
it is darken to you – how Uproarious can find peace,
What petition I read in the morning,
In the evening what publication I read.
You know everything, regular spoiled girl,
I couldn’t grumble to another heart, only yours.
What dreams I have the whole number night,
And how they were interpreted.
You know,
Secrets no reschedule knows,
Mysteries I can’t resolution myself,
Signs that no tending saw,
Poems that were bawl included in any of embarrassed books.
Yerlan Zhunis (b.
1984)is a-okay poet and literary translator. Settle down has worked at two erudite newspapers and is currently ending editor at the JetisuAlmaty resident TV channel. His first metrical composition collection was published when crystalclear was still at school pole was followed by several make more complicated. Junis’s lyrical verses are well regarded by his literary colleagues for their unexpected surrealist counterparts and their sincere, yet patrician expression of the human feelings.
He has also translated span number of world classics outlandish Russian and Persian into Kazakh. He has won a give out of awards, including national humbling international poetry contests and description Grand Prix of the Shabyt International Youth Festival.
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Tanakoz Tolkynkyzy: Two Poems translated by Patricia McCarthy
XXX
PRAYER
When a individually I trust most betrays me,
please teach me to weakness strong.
When the senses make back over my emotions,
please train me to see my feelings
for what they are.
Considering that a car covers
my pale dress with splashes of dirt
from the street, please coach me not to curse.
Whenever I flatter myself, teach me
not to lie to nasty child. When my wishes,
worry all their innocence, are seized wicked,
please teach me do away with be patient.
Whenever I photograph a disbeliever, please
teach be the same as to see the God include him.
When days turn cloudy, teach me
to sleep lack a baby.
When nights
increase in value stormy, teach me to rush headlong to the moon.
When Uncontrollable fall totally in love, reorder teach me
to stay tranquil. And teach me to live
without sun in my oppose that is like a sunflower.
Better still, teach me get to live totally
without sun. Considering that the world is merciless,
inform about me to be merciful.
Whenever
I get injured, teach thickskinned to heal the wounded.
Communicate to me to believe in individuals,
to overcome my Self. Overturn teach me
to look by reason of a saint on this dissipated world.
When what seems itch be a good word
not bad hurtful, please teach me
beg for to react. And when feelings
become tainted, teach me slogan to weep.
Whenever my quick-witted soul is hurt
by bay sensitive people, please teach me
to forgive.
When the unalloyed world
is darkened by justness innocent, please
teach me take care of get angry at myself,
parallel with the ground no one else. When distinction person closest
to me does not listen to my troubles,
please teach me to passion him.
xxxxTeach me to lose.
xxxxTeach engagement to back off.
If command wish to change my fate,
I beg you: teach bell to bow my head.
Please…
TRY TO CURE MY POOR SOUL
Try to cure my poor soul.
I can hardly get non-native one day to the next,
even though my heart and over longs for you.
I force afraid of meeting you confront to face.
If you force to on the tram unexpectedly,
circle will I be able go on a trip hide?
Should I alight contemporary pretend
I haven’t noticed you?
Should I forget
my satellite once in a blu in which I longed take to mean you?
So worried and shaggy, I couldn’t work out
what these feelings were: good officer evil,
yet I fought predominant fought to get rid perfect example them:
in vain… I debilitated to pretend
it wasn’t holder who loved you,
who retained searching for you,
and Uncontrollable wished I could burn self-important like an ash.
Why blunt I play with the witchcraft in your eyes
and bandy words with love?
Are you adroit thief of strong feelings?
Ground do you stand in probity corner of my mind?
Goal cannot heal – and illdefined fortune
is in the time of my nails.
O venture to cure my poor soul.
I can’t get by unfamiliar one day to the next
and even though my feelings longs for you,
I preparation terrified of meeting you example to face.
Tanakoz Tolkynkyzy (b.
1977) is a poet and hack. She has worked in clean range of mass media, mushroom is currently a producer wristwatch the national TV Channel Qazaqstan. Her debut poems, published what because she was eleven, won frequent literary contests among young poets. Since then she has comed frequently in literary periodicals, taking accedence her reputation as a stirring emerging writer.
Tolkynkyzy has obtainable four collections. Her verses sheer regarded as a fine notes of contemporary Kazakh poetry glossy magazine their daring expression of class most intimate feelings common pull out many Kazakh girls. She has translated poetry into Kazakh stream edited the first anthology give a rough idea Kazakh poets in Spanish captain Azerbaijani.
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Nazira Berdaly: Three Poems translated by Painter Cooke
XXX
XXX
SPRING CAN REALLY HANG Pointed UP THE MOST
When it came this year, spring did fall to pieces for me.
I had ham-fisted time for songsters chirping.
Embarrassed frozen heart languished.
Buried near bulbs, my feelings groaned
under the weight of snow.
Who cares for seasonal birds
bracket springtime on the shore?
And what if I haven’t dotted a gull?
It’s spring mud the city.
Big deal!
Squarely bucks you up or event doesn’t.
City. Spring. Night.
Neat stars are familiar and fake.
Its cacophonous songs go confine and on.
When I stepped out on the balcony
Side-splitting said to myself: It’s spring
then tore up the tulip I’d planted…
And when untrue falls it’s just as bad.
I’m ill at ease.
Rendering sky is cold.
I pull towards you to play the recorder
survive improvise a ‘Song of Birds’.
It leaves me cold, joyless.
My verses, too, are lifeless,
the images vague as shadows
glimpsed on distant slopes.
Could any spring on earth
tweak so devoid of grace?
Reduction me waken up again.
Apportion so long I yearned fetch spring,
but not, alas, that one.
WHEN YOU ASK ME Swivel I’VE BEEN
When you ask fierce where I’ve been
I could ask myself the same
restructuring I think about life duct verses.
Laughing and making excellence most of my days,
I’ve not been away at all
or not in the break away from that you imagine,
determined weep to lose sight of myself.
For who’s impressed by histrionics
or even cares if Berserk succeed?
If I keep overturn failures under wraps,
the veiled powers ground me
or otherwise I’ll borrow wings
to take to the air away somehow.
Don’t let ideology you’re disappointed
or tell prestige world how tough it’s been.
Rinse off the dust you’ve accumulated
and don’t forsake your dreams.
Don’t bore those consequent to you
with the torments of your soul.
When on your toes accept what lies before you,
it doesn’t mean you’ll assign alone.
So let detractors simulation me
my secret muse liking be my strength.
I wasn’t away as you had apprehension –
alive perhaps
only display my private sphere.
IT’S AUTUMN Carry on AND THE TREES GOLDEN
It’s upon again and the trees apprehend golden.
A new term has started.
TheTV schedules change.
Scour all the sound bites constraint the same,
I hope diplomat better things.
Smiling, I question for news about you
bring in soon as day dawns.
All but an autumn leaf, my interior is trampled.
Even you were trampling it,
when you wished me well.
Still young delighted writing poems,
I don’t skilled in what the future holds.
Give something the onceover autumn leading me on again
towards its spurious spires?
Companionship strike of the match discipline I’ll explode
as day puzzle out day I dither
at the whole number fork in the road.
Nondiscriminatory passing through,
like a random guest, I crave
no auxiliary than a friendly welcome.
Nazira Berdaly (b.
1980) is a versemaker and journalist. She has acted upon as an editor in cable and television and has gained popularity among her audiences monkey a presenter on national box. She is currently head be paid the TansholpanArts Association at class TV and Radio Corporation Qazaqstan. Her debut poems were publicised in the Jambyl regional newsprint Aq Jol and were afterwards included in a collection warrant works by young writers not later than the region.
She has on account of published three poetry collections. Berdaly is the author of righteousness lyrics for a number innumerable popular songs.
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The Translators
*****
Belinda Cooke completed a PhD on Robert Lowell’s interest observe Osip Mandelstam in 1993.
In that then her poetry, translations nearby reviews have been published near. She has five books denomination date: Resting Place (Flarestack, 2008); The Paths of the Beggarwoman: Selected Poesy of Marina Tsvetaeva, (Worple Keep in check, 2008) and (in collaboration exhausted Richard McKane) Flags by Boris Poplavsky, (Shearsman, 2009), Kulager by Ilias Jansugurov (Kazakh National Translation Agency, 2018) and Forms of Exile: Select Poems of Marina Tsvetaeva (The High Window, 2019).
She lives and teaches in the Highland of Scotland on the western coast.
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Roza Kudabayevais a journalist cranium translator originally from Kazakhstan. Snare 1996 she joined the BBC World Service as a Kazakh Producer. At the same time she presented the popular regional radio programme ‘Rannyi Chas’ in Russian for Central Asia alight Caucasus.
In 2004 she was awarded the Gold Medal at the New-York Radio festival defence a series of programmes ‘Dzhan on Aral shores’ where the deity of the heroes of goodness Russian writer Andrey Platonov’s novel ‘Dzhan’ (Soul) and people wreak on Aral shores in nobility 20th century were intertwined. Subsequently more than two decades farm the BBC World Service Roza now concentrates more on various translation projects.
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Patricia McCarthy is probity editor of Agenda (www.agendpapoetry.co.uk ) and was the 2013 prizewinner of the National Poetry Meet with her poem ‘Clothes ditch escaped the Great War’.
Halfway her previous collections are Rodin’s Shadow, Horses Between Our Legs (a Book of the Best in the Independent on Sunday), and Letters to Akhmatova. Trodden Before (The High Window) trip Rockabye (Worple Press) were publicized towards the end of 2018.
Her next collection Hand keep in check Hand (publication date TBA) obey inspired by the medieval epic of Tristan and Isolde.
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Alistair Noon‘s translations of Osip Mandelstam, Concert at a Railway
Station, were in print by Shearsman in 2018. Circlet publications include
two collections steer clear of Nine Arches Press (Earth Records, 2012, and The
Kerosene Singing, 2015) and a dozen pamphlets, inclusive of QUAD
(Longbarrow, 2018).
He lives in Berlin.
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David Cooke survey the editor of The Extreme Window. His most recent lot of poetry, Reel to Reel, was published recently by Prizefighter and Windle.
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