Inheritance
A poem by Miraziz A’zam
When my father died, three children were we,
Mother was only twenty-four.
Grandfather took care of her, you see,
His widowed daughter he did adore.
The year we sold our house for twenty grand,
The currency changed in our land.
A man who owed us two thousand Soums
Died, and we were left empty-handed.
So, all we received from our father dear
Was a death notice from the war.
An inheritance of sorrow clear,
And nothing more, forevermore.
Translated by Azam Abidov
