With A Finger I’d Write Verses Poem by Uktamoy Khaldorova

With a finger I’d write verses,
Coping down the earth’s pains.
The painful picture in my eyes,
Can’t be wiped out by bygone days.

Over my head the Sun is shining,
Around me the wind is blowing.
The Sun a Giant is blocking,
Alas, my body the wind is not touching.

My father, not earning enough in life,
His tears with his sleeves wiped.
Before the poverty he bended,
An unbending proud head he had.

With a finger I’d write verses,
Dipping it into my green heart.
Until the ink of the heart,
Pouring by God’s will, dries out.