CIYÊ MIN DI
HUNDIRÊ AGIR DE
BE:
Dem dema zivistana tund bû. Lê zehf
jî sar bû. Berf, bager, bahoz çi bigota
hebû. Belê li her deri jî berf pêgirti bû.
Gava zilamek Mûşê jî di ev zivistanê
de li dervayê ma ye. Lê belê ev zilam
di dervayê de wenda bûye û gelekî jî
cemidiye.
Lê belê hemû tili û pêçîyên
wî qeşa jî pêgirtiye.
Lêzim û merivên ev zilamê jî gelek di
pêşya wî de geryane.
Rojeki ji rojen ev lêziman jî mervê
xwe ditine.
Erê lêzimên wan ev zilamê cemidi
hildane û birine malê xwe, li paşê di
cem sobê de danin.
Zilamê me jî xwe di ba agirê de hinek
germ kir û piştre zehf jî kêfa wî pê
hat. Belê di ber xwe de jî heliya lê
paşê wiha go:
‘Xwedê, ciyê min, ciyê
bavê min û ciyê diya min di ev
dinyayê de û dinyayê din de jî di hûndîrê agir de çêbike inşela.
(◔‿◔)
She wept noiselessly, as women weep when they are in great, poignant grief. There was a kind of undulation in her body, which ended in a little sob, which was hidden and stifled by her fingers.
"Oh, you want too much!" She cried to Gatsby. "I love you now- isn't that enough? I can't help what's past." She began to sob helplessly. "I did love him once- but I loved you too."
“Say it again,” he demands. “I want you to look me in my fucking eyes and say it again.”
He slams into me once more, wringing a sob from my throat.
My throat dries, the words coming up like dry bread. But I stare into his wild eyes, finding an entire universe within, and say, “I love you. And you’ve taken everything from me.”
Qazpulunu ödəyə bilməyən Əlisa Nicat
resimyukle.io/r/dOKEs2Lm7R
87 yaşlı yazıçımız Əlisa Nicatın maddi durumu çox pisdir.
Əlisa Nicat özü deyir ki, çox pul yazmasın deyə evdə qazı 2-3 saat işlədir. Üst-başı da nə vəziyyətdə.
Şəkillərinə baxdım. Siz də baxın. Mən onu tanıyandan elə bu nimdaş paltarları geyinir.
Bu adam ölkənin ən dəyərli yazıçılarından biridir, filosofdur,
A touching and wonderful openness, as found
Only on angels’ faces in religious art,
Mimics the cheek dimpled by a smile.
Oh, to be naked like that, and find peace and joy,
Face turned towards the loved one’s glory,
Able, both of us, to sob what we can’t say.
I would not weep if I were they
How rude in one to sob!
Might scare the quiet fairy
Back to her native wood!
Gözyaşı dökmezdim yerlerinde olsam
Ne kabalık hüngür hüngür ağlamak!
Sessiz periyi ürkütebilir
Ormanına geri kaçırtabilir!
Sayfa 17Kitabı okudu
Qarmaqarışıq( YENİ FƏSİL)
I just published "18 - Cİ ŞÖBƏ" of my story "QARMAQARIŞIQ". wattpad.com/1327765272?utm_...
"And that’s what I should’ve been doing. You’re my Lite Bright. I’m your Tink. I should’ve known. And I may or may not punch Ivy when I see her.”
“Don’t punch Ivy.”
“Not even a little?”
“No.”
“How about a love tap?”
A sob settled in the back of my throat as I shook my head no.
“What about when I’m tiny Tink-sized with teeny, tiny fists?”
I choked on a laugh. “Ren would still skewer you with a toothpick.”
“I’d punch him first. He’s had it coming since I had to unexpectedly see his junk in Ivy’s kitchen.”
Another laugh left me. “I’ve missed you,” I said, face-planting against his chest.
“Of course, you did. I’m awesome.”
Our blood splashes upward, O gold-heaper,
And your purple shows your path!
But the child’s sob in the silence curses deeper
Than the strong man in his wrath.
“I’m gonna…” My mouth was so dry. “I’m gonna send you to jail.”
His lips rested against my cheek, and I thought I felt his body shake with a silent sob.
But as I fell into sleep and oblivion, his words were sharp and clear in my ear. “Then you better hope I never get out.”
