I grew up, sun by sun
Until they were crammed on the shelves...       
Dusty!
The old man still has the child's sky…
It is darkness!
And the heart is still lit by the Moon

A Moonlit Heart [Ahmatjan Osman]

Somebody asked:
Have you written poems for your homeland? 
The earth shook, my fingers were still. 
Will grief-pressed weighted shoulders 
move from mountain to mountain?

Could Homeland be strong tea 
That quenches thirst and gives pleasure? 
Could Homeland be the narrow path 
Whose trees give shade yet 
When barred is desert wilderness?

Or is it the sunlight of a tense noon 
That reddens your two cheeks? 
Perhaps it is the reflection of a full moon Branded on a lonely river.

Or the plaintive call of the Athaan 
That has settled in your souls. 
Or the whooshing winds of summer That took us straight to a smile.

Homeland-

A tembur's sound, a dutar's voice.
A red-faced pomegranate seller,
A girl looking down in a green scarf,
A pair of laughing brown eyes,
One verse of Uyghur's words, 
One endless love, 

Perhaps tears frozen in the form of droplets, That no one could wipe away.

A Moonlit Heart [Ahmatjan Osman]

WTFKISTAN

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