Fairy Tale Life (1964)
by Bakhtiyar Vahabzade (born 1925)

Though you are my own mother,
I am so upset with you, mom...
You taught me to feel and to think,
But I wish I had been deprived
of feeling and thinking.
You taught your baby to see, to speak,
But I wish I had been born deaf-mute
to this world.

Taking me by the hand you taught me to walk,
I went round mountains, round lowlands.
Instead of teaching your baby to walk and to run,
You should have taught him how not to fall...
Thoughts flow over me layer by layer,
Answers too venturesome, questions forbidden.

Life is strange to those who know it,
But so familiar to those who don't know.
Where are you? My only mom, where are you?
Come! I want to put my head upon your lap again.

Tell me tales again, let the time stop,
Let me see how heroes in those tales
Conquer double-headed ogres,
And how they escape from wizards.

Tell me, where is peace?
Why won't it come to our lands?
Don't tell me anything, don't, mom, keep silent.
I can't understand the legends you tell.
I've seen such real giants in the world
Ogres from those tales are like chicks in comparison.
I've seen such ignorant and stupid persons
Who call hills, slopes and slopes, hills,
just to please others.

I've seen such foxes that call
The steel chains on their arms, bracelets.
I've seen bandits relaxing
After ransacking their own countries.

I've seen merchants who have sold
Their Motherland not for jewels
But for simple applause, "Good for you's."

I've seen old women, atheist, godless,
Who call roses, thorns and thorns, roses.

I've seen leaders, brutal, merciless,
Cursing their fathers, bowing down to others.
Since the time I have felt this world and known it,
Life has fallen into disgrace for me.
The horrible things that appear in fairy-tales,
I have seen in real life in this world, mom.

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