A poem by Khosiyat Rustamova

downloadYou don’t believe – but I am still alive,
Four seasons and four winters on my shoulder.
It’s not easy in forty years to strive –
For the heaviest heart to become a holder.I am exhausted. Pains in my heart gore,
So, how can I – with death – be at strife?
For a moment my heart stopped, as though
This is the most dreadful point of life.

(Translated by Azam Abidov)