...Məmməd İsmayılı Azərbaycan oxucusu nəinki yaxşı tanıyır, həm də çox yaxşı tanıyır...

Çünki şeirlərində Vətənin dadı-ruhu var... Sevindiricidir ki, bu ruhun coğrafiyası dünyanı fəth edir... Belə ki, Avropanın önəmli  web sitələrindən  biri olan Atunispoetru.com  sonuncu  buraxılışında  hərmyerlimiz  şair Mərmmərd İsmayılın ingilis dilinə tərcümə olunmuş bir silsilə şeirlərinə yer verilib. "Təzadlar" sitə oxucularına şairin geniş həyat hekayəsi və “Müqəddərs kədər”, “İki nəfər”,”Keçmiş su,gələcək su”,Yaığım gəlir”,”Tanrı bilər”, “Unutduğun yerdəyərm”, “Ata şərkli”  və “Qadın”   şeirlərini  tərqdim edir. (https://atunispoetry.com/2022/01/25/mammad-ismayil-azerbaijan/).

Mammad Ismayil (Azerbaijan)

Mammad Ismayil (Azerbaijan)
Mammad Ismayil was born in the village of Asrik, Tauz district of the Republic of Azerbaijan. He graduated from Baku State University and two-year Higher Literary Courses in Moscow. In Azerbaijan, he held the post of director of Ishyk publishing house, founder and editor-in-chief of Genjlik-Molodost magazines, the post of chairman of Azerbaijan State Television and Radio Broadcasting Company. For the last 23 years she has been a professor at the Canakkala University on March 18 in Turkey.
He was a co-chairman of the Unification of the Democratic Forces, which was of great importance in the acquisition of the independence of Azerbaijan. He was elected Secretary of the Writers’ Union of Azerbaijan. He is a member of the Union of Writers and Journalists of Azerbaijan and Eurasia. His works are translated into more than 50 languages of the countries of the world. More than 40 books have been published in Azerbaijan, Russia, Japan, France, Turkey, Kazakhstan, Hungary, Moldova and Kosovo. Full member of the European Academy of Sciences, Literature and Art (France), the Academy of Higher Education of Ukraine and an honorary member of the Romanian Academy. M. Emunuescu. He was awarded the title of Honorary Doctor of the Academy of Higher Education of Ukraine. He was awarded the Golden Pen in Azerbaijan, the All-Union Ostrovsky Prize in Moscow. In Turkey, he was awarded the Award for Services to the Turkic World by the Writers and Artists Fund and was the winner of the poetic competition Rodina, organized by the Religious Fund of Turkey. He took the first place in the poetic competition “Love of Freedom” organized by the European Academy of Sciences, Literature and Art and won first place in the poetry festival named after Voloshin, was also awarded the medal of Mihai Emunseku (Romania) and Taras Shevchenko (Ukraine) and the diploma of Golden Autumn in memory of Sergei Yesenin (Russia). The newspaper “Literature of Art”, published in Moldova honored him with a poetic prize of the year. The Kosovo Prize laureate Azem Shkreli (2018), the Union of Writers of Russia I. F. Annensky (2018) and the International Award Mahmut Kashkari (2019).
He participated in poetry festivals, which were held in Hungary, Germany, Russia, Romania, Italy and other countries.
In the anthology of world poetry, published in the Romanian language, Azerbaijani poetry is represented in his works.
The Writers ‘Union of the Academy of Family Poetry of the Turkish Writers’ Union created the Literary Prize of Mamed Ismail, which is awarded to a poet every year.
We were four
A spotted sheep
A wild apple
My mother and me.
As the memory of future life,
We were sent to the Earth.
My mother was beauty’s wedding gown.
The apple was the forests’ seed.
I was humanity’s childhood.
When you find the time, just squeeze me
And see who I am!
I am a mother pie,
Apple juice, and sheep milk.
That day, the earth entered into a new phase,
Fate became mercy.
Who knows when and where they met
Our father Adam and our mother Eve?
The storm changes from rain to snow,
Many winters, many springs pass through our lives.
For the road from grandfather to grandson
There is also a return from grandson to grandfather.
The roots of the human tree stretch very deep
Even the world empties and fills again.
But there are only two humans on the earth,
Only two humans: Adam and Eve!
Water is in the blood,
The soul in your breast is water.
The grape wine climbed the walls-
is water!
The bluest butterfly flying on the river-
is water!
A drop of tear in the eyes,
A jar in the spring- is water!
Water will die together with you
in your daughter”s tears!
No beginning, no end!
The Past is water! The Future is water!
The welcomed thing that seen
on the face of Prophets-
is water!
I feel sorry for
the years made me orphan,
for the ashes thrown over my head,
for the tongues told my love “not’
and… later on the soul that repented for that…
I feel sorry for
the people who become old-maid,
who enjoyed to use lies and…
who is looking for the happiness
in this miserable world.
I feel sorry for
the decrees of my black Fate,
for my Saz that was taken prisoner by its black dress,
for Nazim whose fortune I live,
for the decrees of my Fate
that was up to mischief,
I feel sorry for my dreams not liken to my life,
and I feel sorry most of all for myself…
Everything is petty,
everything is strange,
Oh, my God!
Life is not like my dream!..
saz: a long-necked stringed instrument of the lute family, originating in Ottoman Empire. Later 19th century – from Turkish, from Azerbaijani, from Persian saz “musical instrument”
Nazim Hikmat: a well-known Turkish poet who was for a long time in emigration
Where does it get its sweetness
how can the honey know?
If you can,
go and ask,
The bee knows.
Where did you sleep in the night
you know
Where will you wake up in the morning
The God knows.
How long can we swim
in the local inspiration water,
How far can we look at the both sides?
We are losing time
in the state of hesitations.
We wander around the heart
in a narrow memory circle
Searching for a path to the ocean
same as the Caspian !
-Spring, where do you come from?
From the place I found the God
– Summer, where do you come from?
-From the place I was aged
– Autumn, where do you come from?
From the place I was withered up
-Winter, where do you come from?
From the place I was forgotten
Mourning for the life passed
I’m at the north coast.
Sun behind the clouds
I am in a foreign land
Is there anyone who asks for me?
Where am I, where am I?
Search your memory well
I am at the place you have forgotten.
Railway station … Train rails
In the middle, snow falls in silence
At the back, backless youth
How could he know, what is ahead
Separation … the heart of the time was bored
A darkening evening on the horizon
My father was with me, my luck was awake
My luck was awake, but I was sleeping
Do these cold verses say something
The sound of the snow was also heard later…
Imagine a mother, aged twenty,
A son, at most, at one and a half years
Destiny can see the things the human cannot see
What happened in the past, what will happen in the future
This train intends to take us apart
Released with steam breath
Need to talk was freezing in the air
Father’s words are broken:
“The light of my eyes, open your eyes
Maybe, this is the last separation!
What is this bitter cold?
My premonition came true
There is no need to prove or explain
The word “father” is already a proof .
Days passed, months passed, years heaped up
The time nibbles my life bit by bit…
I shut my eyes, my luck is tied up
Even I untie it, my luck will not be unwrap.
The name of “the father” is my lifetime comrade
The blood of the memory of my childhood is cold…
There is nothing left such as memories
There is not even a picture to look and cry…
… The time tries to exit through the gap,
The snow spinning in the air…
Life leaves the life… From this separation
The train leaves with the smoke on its head…
Time was trembling when thinking something
It holds Joseph’s cut rope
One of the road would have a return,
But one is “one way only”.
The train pulls off the unbearable troubles
Seeing the state of the person who looks but not see
Day already down on the mountains
The moon was glad see the clouds in the sky.
The train would take off pulling the troubles
The dreams of the baby was snowy…
If he had open his bloody eyes, maybe
He would have a picture of his father within himself…
A woman is like a cigarette
First she takes you to her inner self,
Then you take her to your inner self.
The smoke stem out your head
If you rely on a rich man
You may regret it
It cannot be called love
Call it something else.
Either tradition or custom,
If you smoke, it is a problem
If do not, it is another problem…
Təqdim etdi: Asif MƏRZİLİ




Tuesday, 19 April 2022
By Elçin Məmmədli

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