Oh, Fathers !

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Oh, Fathers !

Translated by Aziz Isa & Rachel Harris

Oh, Fathers !

Poet: Abdurehim Abdulla

All the poets talk of mother

Do you not remember your fathers?

They are such fathers

That even tigers might envy.


They are such fathers

That many beauties admired them

Sharp knives ready to strike

If any betrayer should appear.


Always wading through water in boots

They have seen much suffering and disaster

They have used horse´ s bits to drink from

Crossed every mountain and plain.


At the tips of their spears a bright star

On their swords dawn´ s flame

Their love for their country shields them from arrows

Under their feet waves of blood.


The slain lie in the desert

The sky wept down tears

Tamarind bushes welcomed them

Lions and tigers were their coffin bearers.


We are known as dancing youths

Oh, fathers martyred in war.


We are grateful for needles

And forget the arrows of battle

Epics are written for rifles

But the sword created the world.


When mother gave me bread from the oven

My father fought in battle to give me freedom

Mother gave me a cotton shirt

Father gave me his battle flag.


When I fell down mother cried

Father picked me up and put me back on my horse

He trained me well to withstand hardship

So as not to be abused by my enemies.


In the shade mother sings a lullaby

In mother´ s arms I close my eyes

Father sings in the threshing ground

Like a king who has captured a city.


Conscience is calling my father

Mother is worrying about the family

The people´ s desires form a volcano in my father

A river of tears, him in a boat.


He traces of a thousand youths´ labour

Is on each callous on his hands

My every smile an endless debt

To the knife and bow he carried.


I am known as a party boy

Oh, dear father martyr of battles.


Source: http://www.uyghurensemble.co.uk/en-html/poems3.html