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 Spring 2004 (12.1)
 Pages
      14-20
 Vagif Samadoghlu
 To Live
      Forever as a Poem
 
 Nearly
      120 of Vagif's poems can be found at AZERI.org, Azerbaijan International
      Magazine's Web site that features Azerbaijani Language and Literature.
      The poems are available in Azeri in Latin script and also in
      English translation. Search "Vagif Samadoghlu" at AZERI.org.
 
 
   Vagif Samadoghlu is recognized as one
      of Azerbaijan's most distinct poetic voices. Born June 5, 1939,
      in Baku, he was named "National Poet of Azerbaijan"
      by President Heydar Aliyev in 2000, which was 45 years after
      his father, Samad Vurghun (1906-1956) was honored as the first
      recipient of this same award. 
 Vagif is a Member of Azerbaijan's Parliament (Milli Majlis) and
      one of the six original representatives from Azerbaijan's Parliament
      appointed to the Council of Europe in Strausbourg, France, in
      2001 when Azerbaijan gained admittance to this European legislative
      body.
 
 Vagif is the brother of the novelist and short story writer,
      the late Yusif Samadoghlu (1935-1998) who was also a Member of
      Parliament [See Yusif's short story in this issue entitled "Flowers",
      dedicated to Vagif's first music recital]. His sister is Aybaniz
      Vurghungizi (born 1937) who wrote the profile on their father
      in this issue.
 
 
   Art: Vugar Muradov. Visit AZgallery.org for contacts. 
 Vagif's professional training was in piano, studying classical
      music. He also is a jazz aficionado. He attended Bulbul School
      of Music and graduated from Baku's Music Conservatory (now Academy)
      and then went on to study at the Moscow Conservatory named after
      Tchaikovsky.
 
 As Vagif's contemporary Anar [see this issue] has written: "We
      are the members of the so-called "Sixties Generation"
      in literary studies. In the 1960s, we were beaten and sworn at.
      Now, we're sometimes cursed, but sometimes praised. But only
      our generation can understand and reflect upon the mood of that
      period-its hopes and the shattering of hopes, the yearnings and
      grief of that generation."
 
 "Let the privileged heroes of this century not be critical
      of that hard-working generation. A person doesn't choose the
      time and place of his birth, nor the political circumstances
      in which he lives. That period-the 1960s-which is now part of
      the archives of history, had its own positive strengths and superiorities.
      But we-the youth of that period-grew up, surrounded by hypocrisy,
      falsifications, lies, ignorance and misunderstandings in a State
      where any independent thought could be subject to death. We breathed,
      more accurately, we tried to breath. We tried to express our
      thoughts and feelings indirectly, between the lines, by way of
      allegory and symbol."
 
 In these poems, many of which date to the 1960-1980s, Vagif expresses
      his yearning to be free. "The day I took up my pen, I discovered
      that I was a slave," he writes, meaning that the Soviet
      political system always required writers to praise and glorify
      life in that vast statehood that spanned 11 time zones. Vagif
      couldn't; he had too many complaints-too many yearnings-and though
      he began publishing in 1963, the majority of his poems have only
      been published since independence after 1991 (though many of
      them were written earlier and stashed away in drawers).
 
 His books of poetry include: "A Telegram from the Road"
      (Yoldan telegram, 1968); "Fortune of the Day" (Gunun
      baxti, 1972); "I Am Here, God" (Man burdayam, Ilahi,
      1996); "Far Green Island" (Uzaq Yashil Ada, 1999);
      The Ring of Fortune (Baxt uzuyu, 1999) which is entirely drama).
      All are in Cyrillic.
 
 Most of the poems published here are for the first time printed
      in English. They were translated from Azeri by Vafa Mastanova,
      Aynur Hajiyeva and Aynura Huseinova. They were selected and edited
      by Betty Blair, editor of Azerbaijan International. Poetry is
      Vagif's speciality, but he writes drama as well.
 
 Art: Vugar Muradov. Visit AZgallery.org
      for contacts.
 
 
   Silence (1982)
 Paths are long,Paths are short-
 Doest it make any difference
 In what country,
 Or on what path you lose your way?
 Thousands of countries,Thousands of languages-
 Does it make any difference
 In what country,
 Or in what language
 You keep your silence?
 Road Map(1986)
 Where am I?Where? Tell me.
 Please, cast some light
 On this place just for a moment,
 And let me see where I am,
 Even if I can't get out of this place
 Heaven and Hell
 (1964)
 When I want to see Heaven,I close my eyes.
 When I want to see Hell,
 I open them.
 Freedom (1969)
 You are myOwn mother-Freedom,
 I am your
 Own child, who has been reared by strangers!
 You are the white flagThat my last hope has raised-Freedom,
 I am the wind,
 Unfurling you!
 
 Art: Vugar Muradov. Visit AZgallery.org
      for contacts.
   In the
      Absence of Freedom (1986)
 In the absence of birds,Even a sparrow
 On the balcony can make your heart rejoice.
 And sometimes a pleasant summer
      dayThat you recall
 And sometimes even being insanely drunk
 Can make you glad.
 In the absence of flowers, Even a dried flower,
 Can make a spring.
 In the absence of freedom,Even the Moon
 Gives the impression of freedom,
 So do the children, who sleep so freely
 Dreaming about the moon.
 
 
 
 Truth
 (1983)
 If I light a lampIn the darkness of this tiredness,
 Where will it cast its light?
 What will I see?
 I'm so afraid of seeing something bad...
 I don't know what to do, I don't know.
 I'm afraid to light a lamp.
 But I'm also afraid that some day
 I might get used to the darkness
 And be able to see in it
 Purpose(1982)
 There goes that constant buzz
In my brain again.
 It has started again...
 Who or what needs me,
 My God?
 Are there many doors left
 In the corridors of this life?
 I'm like a photo
 In the hands of a blind man...
 
 Art: Vugar Muradov. Visit AZgallery.org
      for contacts.
   The
      Spirit of Trees (1985)
 God, can the sobbing of a child,
      once beaten,Be heard today beside this fence?
 Forty years later
 Can his teardrops
 Fall upon the earth
 Here by this olive tree
 Where the leaves are so dusty?..
 Perhaps, it is the gravest sin
 To weep in the presence of a tree.
 Maybe, a teardrop
 Shed under a tree
 Is much worse for the tree
 Than even an axe
 
 Yearnings
 (1968)
 We met.We drank.
 We ate some of what was on the table
 And some of what was in our memories.
 Sometimes we stretched out
 Our hands toward the future.
 The bread was old,
 Our memories, bitter,
 And the future turned out to be illusive.
 We woke up
 And parted from one another.
 Harmony(1966)
 See, how our fateHas separated us
 From the forest trees,
 The mountain grasses,
 And the stones in the river.
 See, how much we have frittered away
 Among men
 The lives that God has bestowed upon us.
 Life Becomes You So
      Well(1983)
 A smile becomes youAs do tears.
 You're as beautiful
 As the trees in the forest
 And the expanse of desert.
 You remind me of the mist
 On the mountains,
 Or the sound of waves
 Washing against the shore.
 It's as though the world
 Has been cut out-just for you,
 Life becomes you so well.
 
 Find me, God
 (1982)
 My God, when the crazy winter
      rains Are pouring down,
 And washing the houses of this tired city,
 When the desperate loneliness
 Of the rusty gutters
 Is flowing into the street, sobbing.
 Remember meRemember the place where you left me,
 And find me,
 Find me, my God!
 And be aware, be aware thatI am standing beside the window and watching.
 I am watching my own fate,
 I, who have been left bareheaded and barefoot
 Out in this rain.
 But I, the owner of this fate,Believe, believe, believe in You
 Even in this godless world.
 Belief(1998)
 Does God exist?Or doesn't He?
 Neither today, nor tomorrow
 Am I going to get into the sea
 of this question
 And drown there.
 Nor for not knowing the answer
 to this question,
 Am I going to throw a lasso into the sky
 Instead of a prayer
 You Broke My Heart(1969)
 I told you that I loved you,You broke my heart.
 But again, I told you that I loved you!
 I asked you to forgive me,You cut me short.
 But again, I asked you to forgive me!
 I asked you not to forget me,You broke our memories.
 But again, I asked you not to forget me!
 I gave you my life,But you broke it.
 Now, how can I give you another life?
 
 The Miracle of
      Spring
 (1982)
 Don't say so, it can't be true,I can't believe it.
 Even if you swear,
 And even if you swear
 With God as your witness,
 I can't believe
 That the cherry plum trees
 Have blossomed
 At the side of the road.
 But how?
 But why?
 
 Glimmer
 (1982)
 Don't forget,When you go to bed tonight,
 To close your eyes tightly,
 Wrap the blanket around yourself
 And pull it up to your forehead
 So that you'll be covered in darkness.
 And there in that darkness
 Remember me for a moment.
 Then you'll see that
 My eyes cast a light upon you
 Though ever so weak...
 
 Nation Building
 (1995)
 Now it's time to flee fromGrumbling and complaint.
 It's time to open the doors wide
 Which were never knocked upon before.
 Now it's time to return to silence
 From noise and chaos.
 It's time to come down to humanity
 From the peak of nation and state...
 It's not a time for giving alms or praying,
 Or for cursing and blaming.
 The world must be silent now,
 It's time to help God...
 Old Age and Youth(1982)
 There's an old man sitting,Sitting in front of the ashen gray sea
 That is as gray as he is.
 His sight blurs the distance,
 Which is without horizon.
 "There is no youth on Earth anymore,"
 He says.
 There's a child playing,Playing among the flowers and grass
 That are as colorful as he is.
 He looks at the sun
 Without squinting his eyes,
 There is no old age on Earth anymore,"
 He says.
 Astonishment(1982)
 No guests, no white dress, no
      veil...In a crowded train station of a strange city
 Or inside a Metro train,
 Filling, emptying,
 Rocking with tired people,
 You might see a woman.Who appears as suddenly as an earthquake,
 Unexpectedly,
 Inside a Metro or in a train station.
 And that day you might either
      collapseOr become astonished,
 And you might realize
 That there is a God,
 And that the world was small
 Until you came face to face with that woman.
 And understand that God
 Has not allowed you to live your life in vain.
 
 My Love
 (1983)
 You smell of dreamsYou've wrapped yourself up
 In a warm world.
 You're as tasty as hot bread,
 And you're as lazy as a mugham*
 Performed in summer.
 Even trees and mountains
 Want to gather 'round
 When they see you.
 And I want to be a poem,
 Not a poet
 When I see you.
 (*Mugham refers to a traditional
      music system based upon improvisationof one of numerous complex modal scales.)
 Fear(1983)
 Hide the moonlight,Somebody might see us.
 I'm afraid
 That they can even take the night
 Away from us.
 If it snows, don't tell anyone:"Winter has come."
 They might arrest the spring,
 While tracking down winter.
 If you hear that spring has
      come,Don't leave your home.
 No, my sweetheart,
 Don't pin a flower to your breast,
 It might be taken as some sort of symbol.
 When did this fear begin?
 In what year of what century?
 I can't find the right words to describe this
 In the language of this land...
 
 My Tombstone
 (1963)
 Don't erect a marble stone upon
      my grave,Nor a grand monument.
 Just place a pair of shoes there
 For someone barefoot to wear.
 Identity(1964)
 If the Caspian disappears,If the seagulls stop squalling,
 And if the shadow of these rocks disappears
 While I'm alive,
 If the Caspian disappears from my life
 Like a ring on my finger
 While I am alive,
 What shall I do,
 What shall I do
 If I lose the sea as well?..
 World Map(1982)
 It's raining in the world.The raindrops are drawing
 Strange continents
 On the map of the window.
 The countries get smaller, then larger.
 They disappear,
 Only to reappear.
 The rain is pouring
 All day long and through the night...
 Lost Love(1982)
 If you change your phone number,
      whenever,Please, write down the new number
 On a sheet of paper,
 And bury it in my grave.
 Do you hear?
 
 A Poet's Question
 (1969)
 Will my notebook dieLike a man whose heart is bursting?
 Or will it tell everything that it knows?
 Will crows circle its corpse?
 Or will doves?
 Who will remember
 Any of these thousands of words?
 Will this last page of my notebook
 Be closed for tonight or forever?
 If it will be opened,
 Who will do it?
 My nation,
 An enemy,
 Or the breeze?
 Unconscious(1968)
 Look,We'll finish reading this book as well.
 We'll know who the killer is.
 Then we'll fall asleep,
 Resting our heads on the same pillow.
 We'll lead our life this way,
 Sharing the same house and the same children,
 And our heads on the same pillow.
 So close, yet so unconscious of each other.
 Longing(1982)
 Night is lost in darkness,And day is shrouded in mist.
 If life is just five days long,
 Then why are the days creeping by so slowly?
 The sky is like a tattered quilt,Clouds are its patches.
 I swear, it's difficult to live
 Leaning against this stone wall!
 It's been so hard,To divide this life
 Into hundreds of pieces every day,
 To stand on the sea coast
 And die longing for the sea.
 Distractions(1982)
 The gossips of this worldAnd hypocritical truth
 Are distracting me.
 Today this world
 Is an obstacle to my writing poems...
 
 Azeri Language
 (1964)
 I might forget your rules of
      grammarBut I can never forget
 Your vocabulary,
 Nor your various dialects.
 If some dayThe sudden, cold winds of life
 Cast me into a sea of other languages,
 I won't forget, even for a moment
 Your sorrow,
 Your joy,
 Your hope.
 And I will never forget your passion,
 My mother tongue, Azeri...
 Motherland(1982)
 Seems to me as though15, perhaps 20, years ago
 In Moscow streets,
 I woke up after a dream
 That was as long as death.
 And I became startled upon awakening.
 No sooner did I become startled,
 Than the word "Motherland"
 Slipped out of my hands
 And shattered into pieces
 In Moscow streets
 Complaints(1986)
 I wish there were someoneOn earth
 To sit and talk with
 You feel so bored
 When you're left alone on earth.
 I wonder if there is someone
 Or some place
 To go to complain about God?..
 Tutorial(1982)
 Teach me how to write poems,Teach me, paw print of the wolf.
 Teach me so that others would know
 Where my words come from and where they go.
 Teach me so that my poems will
      have the rightTo live and remain on the ground like you,
 Teach me, paw print of the wolf...
 
 I Am Here, God
 (1982)
 The wind roaring in my ears,The dust of the earth in my eyes,
 A bottomless well on my right,
 The squeak of a rusty gate on my left.
 A cottage behind me,
 A wall in front of me.
 My right hand in my pocket,
 My left hand against a wall.
 I am here, God, I am here!
 Bravery(1970)
 Come on, take my hand,Let's go to the zoo.
 My heart is full of words,
 I want to share them with you,
 Facing a big lion,
 Slumbering in his cage...
 A Poet's Legacy(1985)
 I want to die as a poem,Not as a poet.
 I'm living with the wish
 To be read by someone some day,
 To be read from the very beginning to the end.
 I want to be memorized by heart by somebody
 I want to be remembered always.
 I want to be approved, to be loved.
 And I want all these things so desperately!
 Not as a poet,
 But as a poem that will never be forgotten...
 The Creative Process(1983)
 Close your notebook,Hide your pen
 When you want to write a poem.
 Forget both your happy and unhappy
      daysWhen you want to write a poem.
 There is no song that hasn't
      been sung,There are only songs
 That you remember again,
 Spontaneously.
 It's late.It's night.
 Go, lie down and try to sleep,
 When you want to write a poem.
 A Stranger in My Own
      Land(1980)
 Everyday whenI open my door a bit wider,
 All the dogs in the world start barking,
 As if the world were some stranger's garden,
 That I'd been dropped into
 At the break of dawn.
 Crucifixion(1967)
 TodayAlong the shore
 I was standing like a cross
 Over the dead body
 Of a seagull
 Which had been soaked with black oil.
 Mother, now I'm starting
 To resemble a grave as well...
 
 Defiance
 (1964)
 If they're going to make gallowsFrom this plane tree,
 And if they're going to build a fire
 From the wood of my grand piano,
 Then I was being hanged
 Even though I was breathing
 During my own lifetime,
 Even so,Then I have been ice
 While the sun was being melting under my feet!..
 Living Witness(1982)
 Oh, My God!They're killing a man
 In the forest
 in the presence of so many trees.
 Another World(1991)
 It's cold.I wish I had a candle
 To warm my body...
 It's hot.
 I wish I had a leaf over my head
 To cool me...
 It's the world.
 I wish there were another world
 To take us all under its protection...
 Only Wishes, Not Hopes(1991)
 If one more wish lands on my
      shoulders,Someway, somehow I can bear its load,
 Even if my waist breaks under its weight.
 But I can't stand,I can't take the load any more of even a single hope.
 
 Historical Memory
 (1970)
 So many trees became crippledThis winter.
 A number of forests met the spring
 Without their hands and legs...
 Now the leaves are like kids,
 Noisy and innocent,
 Unaware of the winter that just passed...
 Powerlessness(1971)
 I neither lifted a stone,Nor rode a horse.
 Nor was I able to set free
 Either myself,
 Or anyone else.
 I was born into the world
 Only as a spectator...
 Memories(1982)
 I'll have a cat, The softest one in the world.
 I'll find an armchair
 Wider than the world itself.
 Smoke from an English pipe
 Packed with the finest tobacco in the world
 Will enshroud me.
 And a big clock
 Will be standing in front of me,
 Reminding me
 Of the most beautiful moments
 Of my life...
 Parting(1982)
 Let separation and deathAlways be your companions along the way.
 Rely upon their faith.
 Trust in them,
 And continue your way with ease.
 
 Mozart
 (1983)
 They're lying.It must have been a lie.
 I can't believe that Mozart
 Created his music with such ease,
 Smiling.
 A man can't die that way-
 So easily with a smile.
 They're lying,
 It must have been a lie...
 
 More Works:
 Various articles written by Vagif Samadoghlu have been published
      in Azerbaijan International:
 1. "The
      Emergence of Jazz in Azerbaijan. Vagif Mustafazade: Fusing
      Jazz with Mugham," by Vagif Samadoghlu, AI 5.4
      (Winter 1997), pp 72-74.
 2. "Samad
      Vurghun (1906-1956)-Poet and Playwright on his 90th Jubilee,"
      by his son Vagif Samadoghlu, AI 4.1
      (Spring 1996), pp 20-23.
 3. Vagif
      Samadoghlu: Poetry, AI 4.1 (Spring 1996), p. 23. 4. "The
      Sixties: A Roadmap to Independence," by Vagif Samadoghlu,
      AI 6.1 (Spring 1998), pp 45-47. 5. Vagif
      Samadoghlu: Poetry, AI 7.1 (Spring 1999), pp 56-57. 6. "Stalin's
      Personality Cult: Three Times I Changed My Mind," by
      Vagif Samadoghlu, AI 7.3 (Autumn 1999), pp 27-29. 7. "Language
      vs. State Power," by Vagif Samadoghlu, AI 8.1 (Spring
      2000), p. 25. 8. "Writers
      Speak out about the Azeri Language," AI 8.1 (Spring
      2000), p. 57. Poems
      by Vagif Samadoghlu, AI 8.1 (Spring 2000), p. 56. Also see the article by Vagif's
      sister's Aybaniz Vurghunqizi,
      reminiscing about their father Samad Vurghun in this issue, p.
      100. Vagif Samadoghlu's books of
      poetry: "I Am Here, God" (hardbound, 440 pages, 1996)
      and "Far Green Island" (paperback, 448 pages, 1999)
      are available at AZER.com, click STORE. Back to Index
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