Ardakh Nurgaz. Egg

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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»)

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