I don’t know who he is, let its name be a hope

Intigam Yashar, a young poet and author of four poetry books, hailing from Azerbaijan, home to many of the oldest hearths on earth, and also the center of fire-worshipping, shares his poems

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Intigam Yashar was born on October 3, 1990 in Gadabay district of Azerbaijan. He graduated from the Faculty of Philology of Azerbaijan University. His published poetry books are ‘First meeting’ (2012), ‘…and you are silent’ (2016), ‘I am not at home’ (2018), ‘All memories will remain to you’ (Tabriz city-2021). He has been a member of the World Young Turkish Writers’ Union since 2009, a member of the Assembly since 2013, and is currently the head of the World Young Turkish Writers’ Union. He is a member of Azerbaijan Writers Union. In 2015, he was awarded the Azerbaijan President’s Scholarship Fund. He was one of the winners of the “Best Poem” contest organized by the Azerbaijan Writers’ Union. He regularly appears in the press with articles of various contents. For his successful activity in 2015, he was honored with the “Youth of the Year” award of the Ministry of Youth and Sports of the Republic of Azerbaijan. In 2019, he was awarded the “Success” award established by the Azerbaijan Writers’ Union. His poems were adapted to local Turkish and published in magazines and anthologies published in Uzbekistan, Turkey, Kazakhstan, as well as in Montenegro, Belarus, Russia and other countries. He is engaged in youth literary activities and bookselling and promotion of literature among young people. He is the editor-in-chief of Bizimyazi.az literature and culture website.

Let its name be a hope

At times all beliefs

Are at their last gasp

On execution stump.

And their future wishes

Ask for mercy.

I have no right

To be slack   

Though boring questions

Of silence didn’t run out.

Though the fetters heavier than my being

Are like ornament to my feet

Again something draws me forward,

Again, again I have a hope.

Sometimes I keep my head with my hands

My fingers smooth intersecting lines

Of the wrinkles of my face and eyes.

Again, again I have a hope to future.

The address of salutations

Often changes

When there are no replies.

At times I am frightened

To my own voice.

I become a little disappointed

I don’t tell any word.

Again that voice

Again somebody …

I don’t know who he is

Let its name be a hope.

***

Emptiness of this city

My friend,

The emptiness of this city

Begins from a small room.

Don’t play

To the slow melody

Of the silence

İf it doesn’t make your bones shake.

Step slowly

While passing through the former rendezvous place

Don’t think that

Everything has become old,

Everything has been forgotten

İf lovers don’t meet there.

The feet step to the places

From which the hearts have returned

Hopelessly, faded.

Look, they are in the last gasp

They take steps in this way…

Who you are,

Who I am, who is he

I don’t know whether we exist

Or we don’t exist.

If only my strength of reproaching somebody

 Come to an end.

Either I could keep silence

Or somebody who heard my questions

Said a word.

***

We are future’s children

Neither are you the child of yesterday,

Nor I am the child of today.

My darling, we are the future’s children,

Future’s children!

We are both guilty of the yesterday and today.

We are guiltless

Only for future

And it depends on destiny

Whether future will come to our life

Or it won’t come.

***

All the covert rooms

A woman’s sobbing,

A pendulum clock

A sleeping baby

İn all the covert rooms.

The doors of all covert rooms

Are half-opened,

And the windows are sweat-shamed.

All the covert rooms

See nothing

They stare their eyes to the floor.

***

Twin pains

At times aches are born as twins

For example,

Like the heartaches and backaches

It is difficult

To distinguish them from each other.

Your arms are opened more broadly

More warmly to them.

You protect them

From each blowing wind

From each falling rain.

While they grow

You become dry being on feet.

Their names are as sweet

As diabetes

But they taste bitter.

And on one of the days

Your friends and acquaintances

Come “to congratulate” you.

You are escaped from all aches

The last remedy of the aches

Helps you.

________________ 

Published under International Cooperation with "Sindh Courier"