12.1 - Poetry - Samad Vurghun - I Do Not Pass as the Wind

Spring 2004 (12.1)
Page-106

Samad Vurghun
I Do Not Pass as the Wind

Samad Yusif Oghlu Vakilov was born March 21, 1906, in Yukhari Salahli village of Gazakh region and died May 27, 1956, in Baku. He is buried in the Cemetery of the Honored Ones (Fakhri Khiyabani).

Samad Vurghun was a Soviet deputy and traveled broadly often representing the Soviet Union. Academician of the Academy of Science (1945). Laureate of USSR State Award (1941, 1942). He received the Lenin Order on two occasions. He was honored as People's Poet (1956). His two sons, Yusif (1935-1998) and Vagif (born 1939) became deputies of Azerbaijan's Parliament (Milli Majlis) and also distinguished themselves as writers. His daughter Aybaniz is a professor of literature and curator of the Samad Vurghun Home Museum (see article this issue).

Samad is remembered for his poetic works. His major works include epic poems and dramas such as: "Vagif" (1937), "Khanlar" (1939), "Farhad and Shirin" (1941), "Mughan" (1949), and "Aygun" (1951).

He is the author of a series of articles about world literature classics, fiction writing, and social-political and cultures issues.

He translated the following foreign into Azeri: "Yevgeniy Onegin" by Pushkin and "The Wrestler Wearing a Lion Skin" by Rustaveli.

Statues have been erected to commemorate his life, both in Gazakh (northwest Azerbaijan) and in Baku. Also, there is a street named after him in Baku.

The poems published here were translated by Aynura Huseinova and edited by Betty Blair.

Samad Vurghun wrote this poem in 1954. He passed away less than two years later. He was only 50 years old.

I'm Not in a Hurry
(1954)

Hey friends, let's have a drink!
The sky is full of stars, the weather is cool.
I didn't say, let's get drunk.
Let's warm ourselves up
In the cozy embrace of memories
Let the night last longer so the morning comes late,
Let friends not fall asleep
Who would get bored with my talk
I still have so much to say,
To the world, to mankind
Let's stretch every second,
Don't let time fly away unnoticed.
On this night with its full moon
In the foothills of these mountains,
By this master storyteller spring,
At this moment,
At this second
I hurry
To nowhere, to no place!

My beloved, put your arms around my neck!
Don't say I'm old, exhausted.
I haven't lived my life to its fullest yet.
Come, let's walk around the world, arm in arm!
If the wandering sail of my thoughts
Tosses me from sea to sea,
Don't be afraid! Say with courage, "Good luck!"
Come, let's walk around the world, arm in arm.
Pass through the seas and rivers quickly.
Don't be afraid of the thunder with lightening in the sky,
May your horse never be galloped to death
Either by joy or by grief,
I hurry to no nowhere, to no place!

Hey you, my hunter friend,
Let's cross over these mountains slowly.
In this green meadow by the river
Let's stroll a bit, walk slowly.
The tulips and basil will be offended
And drop their leaves one by one
If I don't greet each flower separately,
And welcome their reply.
I do not pass as the wind,
I hurry to nowhere, to no place.

Let the clouds move slower over my head,
And the river slow down along its riverbed.
Let me watch each drop as long as I want,
Superficiality doesn't move the heart,
What use is passionate lust that lasts just a second?

Don't think that I've became sullen,
That I'm a bird with a broken wing,
Let the world grow bigger, and time lose its essence,
Let the sun shine for months in a single day,
Spreading its brilliant light.
Hey pen, in my hand,
Don't be in a hurry to finish up the book of life.
I'm not in a hurry,
I'm not in a hurry!

More Works:

See Azerbaijan International's previous two issues devoted to Azerbaijani Literature. AI 4.1 (Spring 1996) and AI 7.1 (Spring 1999).