AAZAM ABIDOV, poet, translator from Uzbekistan. He has more than 10 poetry and translation books to his credit. Literary scholars and readers have acclaimed his English translations from eminent voices of Uzbek poetry, Usmon Nosir and Chulpon, and contemporary Uzbek poetry. His Uzbek translations from English, American, Indian, French and other world classical and contemporary poetry have also been appreciated in Uzbekistan. One of the founders of the Creative Writing and Translation Club, Aazam tries to become a bridge between world and Uzbek literature, widen the circle of young literary translators and encourage them to translate world literature into the Uzbek language and Uzbek literature into world languages.
Poems by Karim Bahriev
Translated by Aazam Abidov
Notes from philosophy
(A series of poems)
You are right; no person can dispute, indeed:
It’s wrong to say that there exists the deity.
From the moment it commenced to treat
The heavens overhead became so empty.
You’re familiar with everything, no doubt,
I lose patience from an old question –
If there is no deity, how comes out,
Did the world build in its own fashion?
You are saying: a molecule, an atom,
Cells and blood and energy, you find…
Tell if it was also shaped at random –
Who has given you this virile mind?!
I took a peep at very green foliage –
Yellow leaves appeared in my eyes.
A strongly built city – my glance – could reach,
But one day I saw it’s atomized.
I have a look at plaited, woven willows,
It seemed to me they turn into a coffin.
I saw so many happy, blissful fellows,
Within them there was a deep misfortune.
I could learn what a human body was,
But the soul arose like an ocean.
Directly I avoided with good cause –
And demise became a simple notion.
What is liberty – it’s not rejoicing,
If the times you lived through are called joy –
That means your foe is noiselessly rising,
And base-minded people will enjoy.
What is liberty – over the ancient earth
Up to now your pretty voice prevails,
But above unceasingly disperse
Thousand-year-old, trembling scales.
What is liberty – pretending vivid,
Pleased you were in vain. If you’re not dead –
That means you are beyond recall indeed,
That means you are forgotten by godhead…
4. Blaise Pascal
The sky is a skullcap of earth, rootless,
The night is one wink within eternity.
You are happy staying with your mistress,
But I am only thinking of fatality.
You never call to mind a willow-shell,
As if no death since you don’t grasp.
Even in its cover – I know well –
A dagger is perilous and so sharp.
You’re in paradise and you surmise
That – from graceful luck – death sets apart.
I’ll leave this world with lovely smiles
As if from the hell I will depart.
Not thinking of the last way, haven-sent,
Neither grief you have nor any thrilling.
The more I thought of coming latter end