Ardakh Nurgaz. Egg
Back home from the street
My kid welcomes me at the door
The world is a round egg
A friend once told me
A crowd of people suddenly emerges on the street
Forcibly resisting a number of others
Looking at the riddle-teller seemingly offering his answer
We face one another, no idea
In an instant, the foot lifts and falls
A bird, in a tree, turning around, leaps to another branch
The police, batons in hand
Are yelling at the people on the street
Broken leaves everywhere on the street
That jump with footsteps
The musical note on the curve
Is lost one knows not when
Stones smash into stones
All shattered
That much I know
Who’s there to tell me the truth
Why smash the eggs against the stones
Or is it something serendipitous?
«Pebbles, Eggs & the Fence: A Collection of Poetry from Central Asia»
(translated by Ouyang Yu. «Puncher & Wattmann»)