Bu xəbəri paylaş
Qənirə Paşayevanın məşhur “Ana” şeiri ingilis dilində
Ganira A. Pashayeva is one of the most notable and popular figures in Azerbaijan. She was born
in 1975 in Tovuz district of the Azerbaijan Republic. Ganira graduated from the Pediatric Faculty of the Azerbaijan State Medical University and then from the Law Faculty of Baku State University. She is a Member of the National Assembly of Azerbaijan. She was elected to Milli Mejlis in 2005. She is also a famous poet, essayist, journalist and state figure. Ganira is the author of several books of poems and essays, such as After You, Women Who Made History, The Khojaly Massacre, etc. Her poems have been translated into many languages. She lives in Baku with her daughter.
I couldn”t sleep tonight, Mom,
I had a fear of 36 years old.
The morning of the night
that leads me to 37 is cold,
I was cold, Mom!
Your voice sounded all night long –
coming from past:
“Grow up, my daughter,
Start talking, my daughter” you said...
I grew up, Mom,
I grew up in the merciless years of history,
And started talking!
I’ve walked the hardest path of life, Mom!
I was beaten mercilessly,
I fell down and stood on my feet...
I just stood on my feet, yes,
but I was so hurt, Mom,
I felt pain in my body and in my soul.
But you didn”t tell me
about the hardness of being woman, Mom!
It is so difficult to stand on feet,
to live honestly,
to tell the truth that you know, Mom!
Being a woman is very difficult, Mom!
You didn’t tell me that, Mom!
I never showed my grief to anyone,
I learned to shed tears over my heart,
to pretend just how I am happy,
to have an upright walk
when I was so hurt.
I learned not to fall down
for those who was glad to beat me.
I learned to smile so deceitfully
that I forgot the real smile...
I learned to be so happy
that I forgot the real happiness...
I heard your voice tonight –
You told me a fairy-tale,
You told me that
Good always wins over Evil.
I've waited 36 years for this moment,
When the Evil won I cried, Mom!
But your fairy tales never ended like that...
I listened to you, Mom,
“there was one of them, and other was not...”
But in my story after all
there were too much “other was not’
I grew up, Mom,
I am not the same girl that you knew,
I am a woman
who is growing with pains and tears...
Do you remember, Mom,
We went to the Kaaba,
You were praying in silence.
Suddenly I asked you:
who do you pray to?
You looked at me and said:
“You'll find out when you become a mother”
I didn”t become a mother, Mom...
But more or less
I can understand you...
When I saw friends
who beat me behind,
When I saw step looks of beloved
whom I gave my soul,
I understood you, Mom,
You are the only creature
that I can rely on you...
I shared my joy with you,
But I didn”t share my grief with you,
I didn't want you to be worried about me.
But in fact,
You were the only one who felt my grief,
You were the only one who understood me
When my first love got me too heart broken.
I first saw in you
how to understand someone in silence...
When my beloved said that
“you are nothing to me”
you told me that
“you are everything to me”
When you told me that
I wanted to be everything for him...
But every time
you've been by my side, Mom!
I saw the most beautiful anger
in your eyes, if someone made me cry.
There was the worst flame in your eyes
if someone deceived me...
I felt in my soul
homesickness of refugees,
tears of the abandoned children.
I felt inside my body
humble glances of the unfortunate people.
I never forgot
the eyes and dream of my friends lost in war,
The pains raised me,
I became strong, Mom!
The taste of youth,
love and passion lost already in pains and wars,
and flied away.
And then, when I knew love
It got away from me...
Now here I am in my 37s, Mom!
I've been longer than
St. Jeanne burned to death,
I”ve been longer than Tomris
who cut Cyrus”s head for the motherland,
I lived longer than Nushaba
who taught lessons of justice
to Alexander The Great.
I lived longer than Leyli
who was martyr of Love, Mom!
But I became neither Tomris nor Nushaba and Jeanne,
I couldn”t become even Leyli, Mom!
I became everything to you...
Take me to my childhood, Mom!
Tell me stories with happy end...
Let there be many instead of
“other was not”,
I want to open the first morning
of my 37 years old
believing in your magic fairy tales.
Translated by Kamran Nazirli
 The Kaaba or Kabah, is a building at the center of Islam's most important mosque, the Masjid al-Haram in Macca, Saudi Arabia. It is the most sacred site in Islam. It is considered by Muslims to be the Bayt Allah - House of God, and is the Qibla (direction of prayer) for Muslims around the world when performing salah.
 St. Joan of Arc, by name the Maid of Orléans, French Sainte Jeanne d’Arc or La Pucelle d’Orléans, (born c. 1412, Domrémy, Bar, France—died May 30, 1431, Rouen; canonized May 16, 1920; feast day May 30; French national holiday,second Sunday in May), national heroine of France, a peasant girl who, believing that she was acting under divine guidance, led the French army in a momentous victory at Orléans that repulsed an English attempt to conquer France during the Hundred Years’ War. Captured a year afterward, Joan was burned to death by the English and their French collaborators as a heretic. She became the greatest national heroine of her compatriots, and her achievement was a decisive factor in the later awakening of French national consciousness.
 Tomris Khatun: also called Thomyris, the first Azerbaijani ruler, reigned over the Massagetae. Tomris led her armies to defend against an attack by Cyrus the Great of the Achaemenid Empire, and, according to Herodotus, defeated and killed him in 530 BC. Tomris sent a message to Cyrus denouncing his treachery, and with all her forces, challenged him to a second battle. In the fight that ensued, the Massagetae got the upper hand, and the Persians were defeated with high casualties. According to Herodotus, Cyrus was killed and Tomris had his corpse beheaded and then crucified, and shoved his head into a wineskin filled with human blood. She was reportedly quoted as saying, "I warned you that I would quench your thirst for blood, and so I shall".
 Nushaba: the brave ruler of Azerbaijan in Barda city. In his poem ISKANDARNAMAH, Nizami Ganjavi, great Azerbaijani poet and philosopher spoke about a new type of head of state, a just structure, creating the image of a brave, strong-willed, intelligent and capable ruler of Barda Nushaba. This work, which is considered to be the highest peak of the great poet Nizami's creativity and the brightest pearl of Eastern poetry, depicts an ideal society. In his work Nizami Ganjavi describes the
adventures and battles of Alexander the Great as he travels to the end of the world. On his way to the Land of Darkness, he visits the queen of the Azerbaijani city of Barda, Nushabah, in order to seek her financial and logistical support. Disguised as a messenger, Alexander nonetheless is recognized by Nushabah, who is familiar with his facial traits from a painting located in her treasure house of portraits. While keeping his identity a secret, she organizes an 'ishrat (large feast) for him and invites him to sit next to her on a golden throne and offered him gold instead of meal.