Samad Vurgun

Samad Vurgun

(1906-1956)
Samad Vurgun was an outstanding Azerbaijani and Soviet poet, playwright, translator and literary critic. He was one of the key public figures, who held the position of the Chairman of the Union of Writers of Azerbaijan, Chairman of the Azerbaijan Cultural Relations Society with Foreign Countries, and Vice-President of the Academy of Sciences of the Azerbaijan SSR. S. Vurgun is the author of hundreds of verses, poems and dramatic works, such as “Azerbaijan”, “The Gazelle”, “Aygun”, “The Spring Legend”, “The Maiden Rock”, “Vagif”, “Farhad and Shirin”, “Human Being”, etc. He was the first to be awarded the honourary title the “People’s Poet” of Azerbaijan. His first poetic work "Poet's Oath" was written in 1930, while his collection of poems "The Soul's Book" came out in 1934.

Samad Vurgun translated such famous literary works as “Eugene Onegin” by Alexander Pushkin, “Leyli and Majnun” by Nizami Ganjavi, “The Knight in the Panther's Skin” by Shota Rustaveli. He occupies a special place in the formation of the literary Azerbaijani language via poetry and is highly valued for his contributions.

The World

The stars have pierced the breast of breezy skies,

From craggy mountains mist begins to rise.

My thoughts salute the evening in this wise,

And at a gallop flies the steed of the world.

I look on earth – all blooms there like a rose.

I look on high – the gates of heaven close.

The silent universe questions seems to pose.

As a play, from the beginning, was born the world.

You look – and opened flowers are fading there.

The thinking mind is turned to dust, I swear,

On one side it grows full, on the other bare,

And can’t reveal its inner secret world.

The universe was endless from the start,

But life was a moment saved, and kept apart.

From hand-to-hand life goes, from heart to heart.

We pass away – long may you stay, O World!

The clouds are scattered, and far away scraps fly,

Again, the moon turns in her place on high,

But there is no Jalal, and Humai.

I don’t bemoan my fate – long live the world!

Forget

Forget me then, forget! Do not recall

That I exist upon this earth at all.

On love’s most inconsolable roads which call

I have become a rut, a bump – that’s me.

And even if meadows and garden grasses fade,

And oceans beat on the shore in storms unstayed,

And all of death’s dark shadow stand afraid,

I shall not fear, submission is not for me.

For I was saved from grief by one desire,

The pain of imagination set life afire,

And from Gazakh I decided to retire,

Where someone’s eyes made breathing hard for me.

Let fate mock of me, let life laugh too,

Let earlier memories fret, still breaking through,

I see that certainly my poems new

As in a cage will not imprison me.