Season Of Hunting Poem by Zamir Osorov

My readers have ready to announce the season
for hunting to me.
Where I do hidden from
when the hunters and huntress
worldwide arisen
and search and come to me,
bying ticket for airplanes
from Stockholm, Lisbon, Berlins, Huston, Ottawa
toward the Central Asia, Kyrgyzstan, Osh and my village
It was a good for increasing tourism industry
but not so for the hunted and chased
by the tsunami of worldwide attraction.
Where I hidden from all of them
whom I sheared all the secrets my hearts,
my dreams and fantasies,
and they hypnotized by them and possessed
coming to me for the cure
from the love madness and illness, just imaging,
my person and arts, history and verse
have a such influence for the West generations.
O yes, I have again in the best position and favor,
I have run from my readers to the top of my favorite mountain
and who find me the fist I hope will be kindly granted
by the old chap and beatleman from the Central Asia,
Eleanor Rigby came to his love to the Moscow,
and my hunters ready go after me to the top of Tigers shrine
and Babash-Ata, and Arstanbap and Tengir -Too.
Dont worry I have plenty rooms and mistery corners
for done all of us happy from unfogetful jorneys
and beauty of Kyrgyzstan is the best antidotes
if somebody really fall down from strongest love.

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