Spring 2006 (14.1)
Pages 46-47

Bayil Prison
Our Eyes Full of Tears: Our Hearts Broken
Poetry of Ummugulsum Sadigzade
by Ummugulsum Sadigzade (1900-1944)

The following poems were written by Ummugulsum Sadigzade (1900-1944) shortly after her arrest in 1937. Her husband had been arrested a few months early on trumped-up charges that he was an "Enemy of the People".

Ummugulsum had committed no crime. Her only offense was that she was Seyid Husein's wife. He was executed a few months later, but she never learned about it as she died in 1944, before his death was officially acknowledged in 1956 - 18 years later.


These poems were written while Ummugulsum was in Bayil Prison under extremely crowded, miserable conditions, along with many other women who had been arrested that year during Stalin's repressions.

When she penned this pain she had still not been sentenced to the eight-year prison term (1938-1944) that would eventually totally ruin her health.

Bayil is the same prison in which Stalin was kept in the early years of the 20th century because of his criminal activities in Baku, organizing oil worker strikes.

We have selected some of the Ummugulsum's poems from her book: "Our Eyes Are Teary, Our Hearts Are Broken", published under the auspices of the Journalists Union of Azerbaijan, Nijat Publishing House: Baku, 1992. ISBN: 5-86110-067-5. These poems were compiled and published by Ummugulsum's daughter, Gumral (1929- ). This is the first time they appear in English.


Wondering
(1937, Bayil prison)

Staring out the iron-barred window,
Wondering of my plight,
Flaming words come from my mouth,
Will the skies fathom my tragedy?

Appear to me, oh Future,
Appear, for I have no more patience.
Open the curtains, oh Fate,
What will happen to me? I don't know.
Tell me, who is deciding my destiny,
And my future. Let me know,
If any conscience is left,
Or if my life will drown in tears?

Photo: Bayil Prison is close to the Caspian Sea. Photo: Blair, 2005.

Separation
(April 1938)

I'm fading away in this strange place.
My word is a tale in many tongues.
I gaze at flowers with deepest desire.
I'm far from the grassland, I can't touch the flowers.
I'm an exile. I'm weak, separated from my Homeland.

I'll cry till my tears dry up,
I'll ache until I find my way to you.
I'll write poems more delicate than pearls
I'm not myself; I'm separated from my body.
I'm an exile; I'm weak, separated from my Homeland.

I'm longing for my beautiful children,
For their sweet cheeks and smiling faces,
For their soft hair and gray eyes.
I'm far from the grassland, I can't touch those flowers.
I'm an exile; I'm weak, separated from my Homeland.

Right: Portrait of Ummugulsum by her son Ogtay. After she was arrested, Ogtay, 16 at the time, only saw her once before she died. He was the oldest of her four children that were left behind when she was sent exiled to a prison camp. Photo: Ogtay Sadigzade

To the Caspian
(1937, Bayil Prison)

It's past midnight once again,
And again I cannot sleep, I'm restless.
It's the waters of the Caspian*,
So frightening in the darkness that won't calm down.

Thrash, oh raging sea, open your arms,
Let's embrace each other, standing chest to chest,
Smile, for we are friends with every sad voices,
We're banished from our home, open your ways for us.

Our eyes are full of tears, our hearts are broken,
Let me tell you my grief, listen, oh sea!
A mother's heart is tied to her child's,
Do you hear me, oh sea?

One evening, after midnight,
Our dear child was separated from us, as if prey
The light of our lives vanished, our home was destroyed
Have you ever witnessed such a thing in history?

Thrash, oh raging sea, like our tears,
Drown your waters that reflect us,
What else shall we expect from the nature?
Weep, as a friend.

Break down this tower with your waves -
This tower that imprisons us behind these walls.
Drown it with your waves,
This tower that keeps us behind this unbreakable spell.

What is our guilt? What have we done?
You pose the question, for they give me no right to speak.
What did we do to be ashamed of?
You pose the question, for they give me no right to speak.

*Bayil prison is located in the suburbs of Baku, Azerbaijan, adjacent to the Caspian Sea. The poetess could hear the waves thrash against the shore from inside her prison cell.

May It Not Be
(To my son, Jighatay, who would have been 15 years old, February 9, 1938, Bayil Prison, Baku. Note: Jighatay died because of being imprisoned in a slave labor camp himself when he was only 24.)

I read your poem my lovely flower,
My eyes wept, but my heart was glad.
My only longing is to see your face
Let everything be, let everything
return to Nature.
You ask me to tell about myself,
So I take pencil in hand.
Nothing good comes to mind
To write about
What should I say?
Let it not be a complaint.

If you're well, then I am, too.
I'll be happy
If I receive letters from you more often.
I won't become sad
If I feel confident about you,
Send letters;
Don't let my heart wait too long.

My son, health is important;
every suffering will pass,
This is part of life
And it, too, shall pass.
It's an experience that we learn from.
One should be conscious
And not naive.

Your poem is so dear to me,
Your words like arrows pierce my heart.
Write me about your father,
I have no news from him ,
Don't let my miserable heart worry.

My Jighatay,
Don't worry about me too much,
Care about my grief,
But don't become grief stricken yourself.
Come visit me here,
But don't let yourself suffer,
I wouldn't want you to lose your strength.


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