AT THE WINDOW UP THERE
Where are you, Heart?
«At the window up there!»
How my breast hurts,
Robbed of heart, full of care!
Where are you, Dreams?
«At the window up there!»
How cold the room seems
To me in despair!
Where are you, Eyes?
«At the window up there!»
My empty sockets
Tearfully stare.
Where are you, Verse?
What rivets you so?
Whither so fast?
«To the window I go!»
Where are you, Thoughts?
«At the window up there!»
Who are those people?
«A fortunate pair.»
«Why so forlorn?»
Once my heart she did snare…
I watched the dawn
From the window up there.
TSADA CEMETERY
The village cemetery…
Here
Lie neighbours, in earth’s bosom sealed,
Who can’t go home though home is near,
As I come home from far afield.
Few friends of my young days remain
In Tsada now, and fewer kin…
Dear niece, my brother’s child, in vain
Today I sought your welcome grin.
How come? You were so free and gay.
Now Time has lost authority:
Your friends left school the other day
But always in the Fifth you’ll be.
So strange it seemed—no, more—absurd
That on an empty hillside mute
Here at his graveside should be heard
My friend Biyaslan’s merry lute.
Again I heard Abusamat’s
Quick-tapping, trembling tambourine,
And once again, it seemed, the lads
Were off to grace a wedding scene.
No… Here no revellers are found
Who hail you with a laugh or smile.
All silent is this burial ground,
My people’s final domicile.
The stones within your bounds sedate
More crowded grow with every year.
I know full well that soon or late
My time shall come to settle here.