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At My Grandmother's Grave - You hid your pain and sorrow from everyone, You kept everything covered and secret. Finally, you became a guest In this "covered city". Your hands always smelled of milk, Now everything smells of blood Have you come here to be a grandmother to the martyrs who lie here? Tell them a tale, grandmother, Tell them that Giants and dragons really exist. They rule the world. - You collected stones from the roads and paths, So that the cows' legs wouldn't hurt. So why did this life constantly stone you? Your childhood was a refugee life, And again your old age - a refugee life. Your middle age was the repressions of 1937, then the war of 1941-45, Then the labor of the collective farm - you looked after thirty cows. You didn't want even a stone to hit the cows' feet, You had such love for the government's cows that sent your husband to a place of no return. You never wanted to be a burden to anyone, That's why when you died, You became smaller. So that our burden would be lighter. - Sorrow was your childhood friend; When you died, you should have entrusted me to sorrow — This sorrow should have treated me well. For your sake, grandma. - You saw hell and then left, May your land be paradise, grandma. You have not seen a bright day in this world, May your grave be filled with light, grandma.
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Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 5:14 AM UTC
At My grandmither's Grave
At My Grandmother's Grave - You hid your pain and sorrow from everyone, You kept everything covered and secret. Finally, you became a guest In this "covered city". Your hands always smelled of milk, Now everything smells of blood Have you come here to be a grandmother to the martyrs who lie here? Tell them a tale, grandmother, Tell them that Giants and dragons really exist. They rule the world. - You collected stones from the roads and paths, So that the cows' legs wouldn't hurt. So why did this life constantly stone you? Your childhood was a refugee life, And again your old age - a refugee life. Your middle age was the repressions of 1937, then the war of 1941-45, Then the labor of the collective farm - you looked after thirty cows. You didn't want even a stone to hit the cows' feet, You had such love for the government's cows that sent your husband to a place of no return. You never wanted to be a burden to anyone, That's why when you died, You became smaller. So that our burden would be lighter. - Sorrow was your childhood friend; When you died, you should have entrusted me to sorrow — This sorrow should have treated me well. For your sake, grandma. - You saw hell and then left, May your land be paradise, grandma. You have not seen a bright day in this world, May your grave be filled with light, grandma.
Bahtiyar Hidayet
#azerbaijan
bahtiyar-hidayet
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bahtiyar-hidayet
52/F
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 5:14 AM UTC
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