The morning filled is with blossom
but my soul is worrisome
something is missing in this world
is there anyone to be there for the Uyghurs?
Even the corners of these streets
are cold like a city of graveyards
I can’t feel my Uyghurness anymore
my tongue stutters.
It’s difficult to differentiate the seasons
knowing only the falling of leaves
and the growing of blossom
in nights of solitude I mourn,
there is no dawn star I can greet.
London’s sky looks like a fortress
there is a street under it, it’s name is Kashgar
its prospects gone for the Uyghurs
it’s become a relic, a sorrow in our hearts.
Life is racing, why there is no news from my love?
my patient says enough, enough
and my mood becomes sours
will my life continue with sorrow?
If there is a hurricane or storm
they couldn’t make me afraid no more
my roots are buried deeply under the Tarim
they will grow with effortless.
Humanity is the best deed
like spring, like a Kings’ favourite garments
our faces will smile with inspiration –
to be a soulmate for whom hearts has frozen.
Blossom fell today
and they brought thoughts to your soul
Elkun, but don’t become grief-stricken,
spring will come
You can solve the puzzle of the flower.
08th April 2018, London.
Read the original Uyghur version of this poem: