by Nurmemet Yasin (Orkishi)
translated by Aziz Isa Elkun
Where are you our heroic men?
Let us go to the desert,
The brave hunter finds freedom there,
It flows in his spirit and his blood.
The reeds sing a desert song,
Horses neigh on the horizon.
The heroic people who once lived by the sword,
Now lie quiet beneath the earth.
The floating moon becomes a beautiful girl,
Telling a story in the blue* sky,
Oh the reed bed fiercely burns,
And with it the hopes of a whole nation.
Aziz Isa Elkun
Year!
Once more you have passed
I have no desire for a new one
Because you brought with you unbearable oppression for my people
Countless friends have disappeared
The humiliation of the Uyghurs reached its peak
All the lovers of freedom thrown into jail
No tears fall from our nation’s eyes without blood
But the world pretends to be blind …
They sell their humanity for profit
If this is what you offer me as a gift
How can I salute you today, New Year?
Year!
You thief of life since ancient times!
That’s why Lutun(1) answered you without fear
The enemy’s sword could not kill us all
But the Uyghurs were hardened
Became heroes on the battle field
Without being defeated!
On a bright midsummer morning when you take your little girl’s hand and walk to school listening the birds singing on the way along the narrow footpath, you feel thankful to life that today will be one of your best days full of enjoyment just like any other day that you have hastily left behind you.
At that moment I was feeling this happiness, walking with my daughter, holding her hand and telling her funny stories about nature. In our magical imagination, my little girl and I turned into sparrows and flew singing among the birds on top of the big oak tree. From our home to school, we walk along three different tree covered narrow pavements, we need to cross several small roads and it takes us fifteen minutes walking.
Sometimes it’s quite difficult for us to pass people on the narrow pavement. Sometimes our way is blocked by young mothers with double buggies and tearful toddlers. We are lucky today; we meet a lady and her little girl whom I’ve known for several years. Her daughter is in my daughter’s class, and we often meet in the playground or at our children’s activities outside school. Her name is Lucie. She is French, from Nice, and she moved to London a few years ago.
