KARIM BAHRIEV, former senator, poet, journalist, he worked for Internews International. He is a great supporter of democratic values, wrote many books on this subject. His works have been translated into many languages. He was editor-in-chief of the newspaper “Independence”
Or a simple verse about versification
You have always written of the luck,
But I wept. Insensibly. In dark.
You are sick of me. What can I do?
Bear a little. I am going to…
And the sun, as everyday, will shine,
Birds will fly and horses pasture fine.
Ants will creep on beam and all in wonder,
Yellow leaves feel torture. Wind will wander.
Mountains that very heavy — lean,
Caverns howl, gardens — rustle — green.
I pass away… And days will last to break.
The rose blooms. Then fades all in a crack.
The world is great. It’s all the same, who dies,
None will weep for faded bloom, no cries!
You eat your meal and speak of motherland,
But I swallow blood.
You smoke always talking of the nation,
But I feel deep hurt.
You say “My people”, then flew to the skies,
I fell only down.
You dance in joy when speaking of the land
All in sweat I drown.
You always praise that ‘perfect land’ you have,
Decorate with cloth.
I wished to see the Turkistan so mature,
And only told the truth.
You lived for Motherland and was delighted,
Tear-drop I hid.
You were awarded with the special honours,
But in my chest…
The world is riddle — confidential,
Wounded it my pure heart.
Earth is gloomy, lights the candle, —
Bright rays holder named God.
Warmth was taken from my face,
Brightness left behind my eyes,
At present follows in my trace
A plaintiff that was named Trust.
Strength in feet was weakened, lost,
From my true words felt disgust,
Mastered hair light at last —
Life assumed the name brigand.
This is life, one day leaves us,
Man may not catch time to glance,
It will also mow me thus —
Death — haymaker at the end.