Latofat Buronova
(Chirokchi district, Uzbekistan)
c/o Asror Allayarov, <allayorovasror@mail.ru>

 


The Time When the Poem was Born

A poem was born with scream in the world,
It is exclamation of creators heart.
Sometimes the dream looks a lie,
It sounded so sound from the sky.

Mountains screamed when the poem was born,
Bodies shaked from the strong of the pain,
Even speaking coloured colours ,
Pulled out the poem motherís bosom.

In order colours show its power,
Colours were sprinkled to face of poem,
Colourís power has burst from the grief,
Having seen it, they run off screaming.

Little heart came to life that time,
Though blazely bonfire left over,
Poem was going to throw to the fire,
It was equal to enemy with its little body.

The poem made all enemies stand in row,
As a result its heart full of grief,
Soul was over, the earth gainer, pleasure
Then appeared pained love.

© Author

(Published in Kafla Intercontinental - Summer 2013)