Poems by Nigar Arif


Nigar Arif was born in 1993 on the 20th of January in Azerbaijan. She studied at Azerbaijan State Pedagogical University in the English faculty in 2010-2014 and graduated from “III Youth Writers’ School” in “Azerbaijan Writers’ Union” in 2016- 2017. Nigar Arif is a member of “Azerbaijan Writers’ Union”, “World Union of Young Turkish Writers”, “İnternational Writers’ Union in Kyrgyzstan”, “ Writers Union of Central Asia” and the “International Forum for Creativity and Humanity” in Morocco. Her first book – “The Room of Memories” was published with Arabic ABC in Iran. Her poems have been partially translated into English, Turkish, Russian, Persian, Chinese , Portuguese, Montenegro, Spanish, Arabic, Indian, Urdu and have been published in different countries. She was a participant of “IV LIFT- Eurasian Literary Festival of Festivals” which was held in Baku in 2019 and “30 Festival Internacional De Poesia De Medillin” in 2020 which was held in Colombia, “Panaroma International Literary Festival 2020” in India at an online platform. She participated at the” Word trip Europe” project, “100 poets around the World for love” and “Fourth Global Poet Virtual Meeting 2020” and so on…

1. Humans’ rain

Here is the city,

people break out and leave…

Here are the snows and rains,

washing their footprints…

Even the sun shines in every morning,

Winds blow and sleek

Nothing can remove those,

Nothing can be changed…

People soak up to its memory

from its pocky face.

They fetch their colors with themselves

keeping the city pale.

Everywhere is dull,

Everything turns to a grey tale.

People rain and rain falls from their eyes

in every single day

And those getting wet in the heart of this city

who can’t run away

Humans are raining cats and dogs,

Ambulances revolve like the umbrellas

under the sick drops…

Either the nights or the noons

wobble from their homes.

The whole world tumble from its place

and falls…

Day by day, week by week

Streets become empty

The roads, cafes see the end.

The shoulders of the heavy shops

are going to bend…

The huge buildings, the small houses

between the city’s arms

peeping out with fear at the naked depth

that idles in the villages, travels to the countries

Lonely trees are getting bored

The flowers, birds and meadows

from the dusty feet of this city

missing of the man

Who knows?

May be in their own languages

they even rail

this damn, teasing quarantine.

Now we know, mom

Cities and countries

can also catch the diseases…

What can i say?

Don’t worry,

everything will be okay.

There are hopes

that draw out till the hair of this city…

There are our dreams putting the hands to its forehead

to check the heat…

May be we found the best treatment, mom,

Love is the best engraftment

as you always said…



2. The Wind

Hey wind, knocking door to door,

is that one door you’re looking for,

is that enough for you?

Where are they now,

those open doors

from the hot, sunny days of summer?

Where are those that loved you,

to dine with and to rest;

who once were pleased to welcome you

and treat you as their guest?

Hey wind, knocking door to door,

where are your lovers now?

Now the weather’s turned to winter,

have they turned cold as well?

Don’t knock, my dear, don’t knock,

no one’s opening their door,

no one will look out for you, nor call on you,

no more.

Who, I ask, now the weathers changed,

would call on you at all?

Go dear, go.

Just wander round these dull grey streets

and break dry trees in anger;

just wait as winter turns to summer and your friends,

dear wind, with the sun, will grow again once more.



3. The clock is slow

Look at the world’s clock

It’s an hour slow.

Either joy is late,

Or life is drowned by sorrow.


Even if it talks and laughs

like a happy old man.

The world’s laughs are lame

as the tired past.


He’s begging or seeking

with a wishful hand.

And spends the days on steps

Fighting against the wind.


Out of the sweeper’s eyes

Falling his nights.

The broom in the calloused hands

wakes up the sleepy streets.


He is a driver on the bus

Passenger in the wishes,

Looking for his fate

With the hope to change.


Look at the world’s clock

It ‘s an hour slow.

Let’s set up it anew,

For a better life than now.



4. The Reconciliation

Hey man, taking umbrage at himself,

Have you done a lot of sinning?

All you’ve lost, is just yourself,

Is there anything you gained?


Who took you from you?

Who left you to the void?

Who put his hand on your heart?

And calmed you like that?


Who ruined your life and fate

looking at your “sorry” face?

What did he leave in your eyes,

Dropping as tears?


Maybe it’s you, and,

you’ve become a pain for yourself?

Maybe you just let your joys

slip through your fingers?


Hey you,

Who’s oppressed by sorrow,

Walking in his thoughts,

Getting tired of his ways…

Losing the sun among complaints.


Turn back,

Make peace with yourself.

Shake hands and have faith ,

With that one whom you turned away.



5. When You Left

I used to see the flushed eyes of life

in the geography classes,

I used to see the truths that erupted like volcano,

and plains

on which was creeping the lies

under the truth,

I used to see fell down knees

of the highest mountains,

The same wind was blowing in all countries,

The same rain was raining all over the world…

I was a country myself,

Yes, I was…

When I wanted to subdue the country like you

my heart was shaking

like it was an earthquake;

sweet waters were running,

pure springs were running

in the bottom

of the most rocky and barren lands.

I used to see the beautiful faces of the best creatures

in the far-off places…

When you left…

When you left,

I realized that

human being is the biggest iceberg;

he is melting for years

and flowing to dying…



6. The Way

Who did really cut out my way?

Either the way is chance or I’m green.

I may be the last human on this road,

Maybe I’m just a gravestone of this road.


My dreams looking through the window,

My leg got tangled with my own way;

I don’t know how it looks from that side,

My fate is clapping at my falling.


Or maybe it’s not me going on this way,

It’s my road, limped, my road’s crawling.

It turns to ground, it changes to stone,

It just follows and blankets with me.


How this way did fall on my fortune?

Maybe it slipped out of my pockets?

Had I trampled on its face and head?

That’s why it is so impudent to me!



7. At the Door of Parting

I don’t know when

we were parted,

How and when

our love was ended?


we shouldn’t have met

from the beginning…

Were we really bowed down

the love and desire?

Maybe we were children

in the hands of love.

And those hands parted us…


maybe I am wrong,

We did grow it ourselves

We grew up just each other.

And what parting was,

what was the parting then?

Parting was the bitter tea,

Parting was like bane.

When sleepless night

attempting to fall asleep

Parting was the morning.

A tender word I found

in the book I read

was a handful sadness.

Parting was worse

than the boring death!

I don’t know,

Where was the door of parting?

It’s like I knew,

but so what?

From now,

I won’t come back anymore,

and you won’t open that door.



8. Close Your Eyes 

Close your eyes, baby…

Let your looks pour into your soul

to see those at your age.

Don’t look at great pictures,

at the shades

showing an ant as an elephant,

like a giant you called.

Don’t be afraid…

There can’t be shadows of shades, my child,

Close your eyes,

Close your eyes…



9. Run After Childhood

My eyes slowly drift away from me,

See the things through glasses as grow old.

My feet have got a fast walk, running before me,

‘Cuz they’re in a hurry to reach to my childhood.


My fluffy hair’s looking for its braid-time,

It becomes white and bare like this winter,

Time calls on wrinkles my face and hands

road to road, as I’m bored year by year.


That’s how I’m getting older, tale by tale,

My pains turn into small kids like my children,

listening to my stories and fairy-tales,

Don’t even get off my arms and knees.


The old years like the black and white points,

come on and stay in the domino-stones.

I lose each game on purpose to my grandchild,

At my old age – in my “childhood” years.



10 . The Woman

Your life like an ant was away eaten,

There’s not even one day left for you.

You had the weight of the world

on your shoulders like an elephant

But no one really ever appreciated you.

You skimmed off and cleaned up your life,

But you’d relied on hopes, woman!

You just laughed in silence at your grief,

You’d troubled about your joy, woman?!

You’re pinning your hopes on now,

Your land is at the end of its rope.

Woman, maybe we don’t just know:

the land is unwitting, the stone is dark.

The death you walk on the balls of the feet

is your eaten life that waits for you,

It just waits for you in silence as dead.



11. I Don’t Think If… 

I’ll never pass again through these places,

The memories here are suitable for depth;

They took away my hopes from my eyes

And they did eat my soul till they’re fed.


These roads covered already with thorny shrub,

But my passed days are barefooted.

My wishes with you are like dried leaves

My dreams with you are like a thick dust.


I don’t think if this place could have warmed up,

No matter covered with grass and flowers.

They could be first meeting place for some others,

But they would be just coffin of our love.



12. Things That I Feel A Desire to Have

If I can keep a thing

that I feel desire to have,

If I take its time, and

can hamper it a bit…

If I can just take a seat

today, in this street.

And can question one by one

my old and old habits…

If I make merry to my heart’s content,

with the filled wine glass.

And fall into thinking,

If I have a small dog,

That barks at those

whom I put up with,

Or if a cat scratches

at whom I lost faith in…

if the old years come back

and wake up the sleepy past…

If you are mine again,

If I break the rules

of the love games again,

If we are pig-headed

If I am “as pure as the driven snow”-

as you called me like that.

If I am a little bit younger

And a bit babe in the wood…



13. The Window of Mind

No, but there is something

I can’t hold back anymore,

I can’t talk…


what I say to the dark-faced world?

What I say to this time

that getting dark,

What I say to the day

that draws to a close;

What would I say?

What I say to the right or wrong word –

the mirror for the world

that has been through my house

and road,

taking by hand of these crossed roads,

passed by coldness and warmness

of this dusty town,

and smoke of the cars,

and through the lights of the streets

from road to road,

and through the darkened hearts of people,

and walked right

through the eyes of the people,

and turned into a word,

into the mirror for the world,

What I say to myself

whom I have seen in this mirror?

Break this mirror, break it,

my life and sweet-heart!

Let me not see

what I realized,

Well, what do you get in mind?

I’m not human…I’m not human!

Maybe I am a house that locked,

I can’t go out of myself…I can’t!

Where is a window of this house?

Tell me,

where opens out that window?

Take my mind and lead me,

Take me far away from here,

Tell me,

maybe the windows are the hands

of the silent houses?

Every day, every evening

They are opened for us

to embrace those

that we never seen,

not to show us

we have seen?


14. I Wonder, How am I? 

I am not at home today,

I have gone to the far…

I don’t know where I am,

Well, look, probably,

I have lost sight of myself…

O, I don’t know, maybe…

Maybe when I am in a hurry

To be chasing rainbows.

I have been late for myself

To live to my heart’s content.

As I wanted to reach us,

Maybe I didn’t recognize

And passed by myself…

I have become thoughtful

My wishes stayed hungry –

Mind’s digested me…

I am not at home today,

My hand knocking at my door,

my heart isn’t just opened,

beating just itself up…

It put me into fire

I am burning there without you…

And this life shack

smells of death.

It wakes me up at once.

My light of hope

has gone out at all.

It can’t wait for a good day.

You have made blind

that darkened room.

I am now a reproof

In the house where I’m absent.

I am not at home today,

Don’t ask me how I am,

As soon as I found you

I am moved out of myself.

Look, I am like that…

I wonder, how am i?



15. To Distant Places 

Hello, my friend, how are you?

How’s it going down there?

So, what’s the weather like?

Is the wind blowing again

interfering in affairs of Heaven?

Does the Sun reconcile to clouds

when it fell out with them?

Does the rain become the eye

of the house that you live in?

Tell me:

are the dreams playing back gammon

at nights, waking up past days

And drinking the memories?

Do the sweet, tasteful smells

that cooked by my mother

you loved in childhood,

knock at your door?

Do the days going out

Look ever at the day?

Do you hear voice

coming from far away,

And as it touches the ears

When you look for that voice

Your dreams in your soul

missing like me?

Does your tongue mix up often

spelling the old name?

How is the morning there?

How is the city there?

They say,

you fell in love there,

How is that place there?



16. Music is Me, Word is You 

I have turned into sea,

Waves are line by line.

Under the waves

the fish is playing.


I have turned into sea,

İn the coast of my verse.

The sharp rocks got brittle,

The sun takes it by hand.


I have turned into sea,

It flies up to the sky.

Dreams like the ship

making sail in my soul.


I have turned into sea

In the apple of the eyes.

Striking against the gems

On the gentle wrists.


I have turned into sea,

Hairs are like water-plants.

Time is on the lips

resting long, and long.


I have turned into sea,

You’re just the sea itself!

Music of its song is me,

The word of its song is you….

What do you think?

Joe Kidd – American Poet

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