Mukhammadiyeva Sevinch
Translated by Mukhammadiyeva Sevinch
Who Should I Thank?
Who should I thank for joy and for pain,
That the blue courtyard still lives within me?
The entrances have no doors. All the fences are covered in lilac.
I tell my mother: – I’ll be home soon.
A breeze will stir from the wing of a bat.
The attic window. Through it – to the roof.
The sound of heated iron rings faintly.
It’s not an abyss above me, but it feels as though I am above the abyss.
There’s no night in the world. Only dusk has come.
And the stars above me – bright blue in the light.
From the balcony I hear: – Home… Nine o’clock…
– Soon, – I lie to my mother. I lie to my mother: – Soon…
…From that roof, there’s no way to escape to the grave.
I’m forty… And there, the nine still hasn’t come.
There’s eternal spring there. Time is on pause.
The balcony and the blueness… And mother on the balcony.
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