The poetry is the voice of the spirit. Only the tender souls can hear them. I think a true poem is a true expression of the soul, the wide impression of the writer’s world. The poetry is such a mysterious gift which differs poets from others. The poetry does not have nationality, It belongs to all nations.
I Wish you every success, my creative friends
Uktamoy
The water in the pool is my tears
let’s swim, come on winds.
The wild and pitiless shamans,
Robbed my joys in the darkness.
...
Down my heart is falling spilling
From a nameless beautiful feeling.
In my embrace free birds dreaming,
Wake up from their sleeps, singing.
...
An enemy I have,
Who is straightforward.
I live worrying from
The braveness of my tongue.
...
EXCITEMENT
There comes excitement flooding
Would drag to its hurricane sway.
I would swim against the streams
...
***
Yearning for its flowers, spring will return,
If miss their pillows the dreams will return.
I am missing you, my darling like the sky.
...