Translated by Aziz Isa & Rachel Harris
Oh, Fathers !
Poet: Abdurehim Abdulla
All the poets talk of mother
Do you not remember your fathers?
They are such fathers
That even tigers might envy.
***
They are such fathers
That many beauties admired them
Sharp knives ready to strike
If any betrayer should appear.
***
Always wading through water in boots
They have seen much suffering and disaster
They have used horse´ s bits to drink from
Crossed every mountain and plain.
****
At the tips of their spears a bright star
On their swords dawn´ s flame
Their love for their country shields them from arrows
Under their feet waves of blood.
****
The slain lie in the desert
The sky wept down tears
Tamarind bushes welcomed them
Lions and tigers were their coffin bearers.
***
We are known as dancing youths
Oh, fathers martyred in war.
***
We are grateful for needles
And forget the arrows of battle
Epics are written for rifles
But the sword created the world.
****
When mother gave me bread from the oven
My father fought in battle to give me freedom
Mother gave me a cotton shirt
Father gave me his battle flag.
***
When I fell down mother cried
Father picked me up and put me back on my horse
He trained me well to withstand hardship
So as not to be abused by my enemies.
***
In the shade mother sings a lullaby
In mother´ s arms I close my eyes
Father sings in the threshing ground
Like a king who has captured a city.
***
Conscience is calling my father
Mother is worrying about the family
The people´ s desires form a volcano in my father
A river of tears, him in a boat.
***
He traces of a thousand youths´ labour
Is on each callous on his hands
My every smile an endless debt
To the knife and bow he carried.
***
I am known as a party boy
Oh, dear father martyr of battles.
***
Source:
http://www.uyghurensemble.co.uk/en-html/poems3.html
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