Ismail Kadyrov’s Poems

Ismail Kadyrov
Kyrgyzstan

Kadyrov Ysmayil, born in 1951, a native of the village of Zhany-Kuch At-Bashinsky district of Naryn region. In 1977 he graduated from the Faculty of Mechanics and Mathematics of the Kyrgyz State University. After graduation from 1977 to 2000, he worked in the Main Editorial Office of the Kyrgyz Encyclopedia as a scientific, senior scientific editor, then as a leading editor. From September 2000 to 2022, he worked as a referent, expert, head of the sector of the Apparatus of the Government of the Kyrgyz Republic. The author of many works of art, including for children, such as: “Sandar Sanaty” (Counting), “Dil murok” (poems for teenagers and children), “Tort tuluk”, “Tuston chykkan turkun soz”, “Chymchym anghemeler, chyryldagan oil” and much more. He is an editor and translator of numerous encyclopedic and fiction books. Editor of a 2-volume anthology of Kyrgyz poetry published by the Soros-Kyrgyzstan Foundation in 1999, 2000. Y.Kadyrov wrote the first Kyrgyz Guinness Book, a book telling about records and unusual achievements in Kyrgyzstan.
Kadyrov Ysmayil – Honored Worker of Culture of the Kyrgyz Republic (1994), excellent student of Public Education of the Kyrgyz Republic (1997), member of the Union of Writers and the Union of Journalists of the Kyrgyz Republic. Laureate of the literary prize named after Aala Tokombayev, Laureate of the literary prize of the National Union of Writers of the Kyrgyz Republic named after Togolok Moldo for children’s literature.

THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA
The wind, the wind cries, howls hollowly,
Shaking the sea, tossing the waves up.
There was no one to meet the shaft at dawn –
The old fisherman didn’t come ashore today.

Unlocking the ninth shaft, waiting for the fisherman,
A lone boat is rocking on the shore at the pier.
The sea is raging and foaming like a camel,
And pisces is more restless today than ever.

Bobylem lived, the old man is a kind soul,
The sea is his only fun.
Sensing trouble, the sea gets angry, and waits for the fisherman…
And there is no old man and there is no… It’s sunset time…

Translated by Melissa AIDARKULOVA

Ashes of War
Like an ever-burning, smoking cigarette,
Sadness always lives in her soul.
An old woman lives alone, with longing,
On the edge of the village in an old house.

Husband and sons were killed,
They did not return from the battlefield.
An old woman lives with a grudge against fate,
Without leaving the hearth.

The villagers will prepare firewood for her,
The guys will look after the calf.
But still krupin ‘s soul does not leave,
I’m not destined to babysit my grandson…

Smokes and smokes like a cigarette,
A memory every night.
The old woman lives lonely, dreary,
Bearing the sadness of war.

The old woman is whispering something, muttering,
Remembering the departed forever…
That’s how I saw the war,
Although he was born much later.

Meeting the Dawn
Life was awakened instantly with the arrival of dawn,
He breathes freely in anticipation of a joyful meeting.
The branches spread out exuberantly in the green garden,
Everyone is waiting for the day, for the sowing of the born.

At the cradle and the mother overcame languor,
I didn’t sleep all night – I rocked and sang everything.
The stars melted away with the coming of dawn,
Everyone is happy to meet, and the lark is ringing in the sky.

The sun scattered the rays generously with pearls,
The light suppresses the dislike of the cold night.
The world comes to life again and again as before,
Life seems to be an unsolved miracle.

Father
I dreamed about you last night,
On a silver-maned, frisky horse.
With a tired face
A hoarfrost-covered, gray-haired head.

What happened to you, Father,
What exhausted you so much!?…
What a pity! What is not given to people to live,
How is Archa five thousand years old!?…

Maybe you would have become an aksakal too,
With a shaking head, a white beard.
They would respect you because,
That every word of yours would become a saying…

You didn’t see your granddaughters,
And he could not do good.
When I remember it,
Sadness is gnawing at my soul.

In a dream, you come to me,
Youthful, as before.
In my memory, in my heart,
Stay that way forever.

Without dedicating anything to your memory,
I haven’t done anything for you.
I just remember relentlessly,
Father, my father.

Translated by Umutkan Eralieva