Eshqobil Shukur

ESHQOBIL SHUKUR, poet, editor, program presenter, journalist, he has been working for Uzbekistan TV for many years. Published many poetry collections.

A song is creaking in myself,

Creaking: still I don’t die.

If I now weep, no help,

Only for Allah I cry.

A tune is burning all my bone,

I haven’t come to world yet, why,

A half of mine is night, half – dawn,

Only for Allah I cry.

A hairy bridge is paddling fast,

No death, no life, I don’t try,

O, man, take easy it, but just

For merciful Allah I cry.

***

Why do you weep, my hands?

My legs, why do you pull out

Your nails?

We only three millenium live

In the Stone, Iron age.

Why do you cry, my hands,

And why do you, my legs?
Still it’s far to People’s Age.

Translated by Azam Abidov

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