Two Fears (1988) by Bakhtiyar Vahabzade (born 1925) (Dedicated to the memory of our deceased composer Gambar Huseinli) He was a friend of mine, Composer Gambar,1 Whose songs ever smelled of the native land. The sweet songs we two had once composed Were passed from mouth to mouth. He had never mentioned it, but I knew that He had been arrested some years before. But I did not know what his fault was. I never asked him, nor did he tell. Once Gambar was complaining to me about his life, I felt heaviness of heart... I asked him: But why did they arrest you? Suddenly he exploded like a bomb: Don't you know why? Because I had cursed the world. I had called "The Father of the Nations," an enemy. Then he became frightened of what he had said, And suddenly stopped, not breathing a word. Evidently, he was afraid of me, Thinking I might be a spy. "Sorry, I got excited," he said suddenly, "Sometimes I don't know what I'm doing." I felt the humility in Gambar's voice, But in a way he was right to be suspicious. I supported everything that he said In order to dispel his doubts... After arriving home from Gambar's place I started thinking, Fear and agitation gave me no peace. I remembered our talk... I said to myself, you fool, Why did you get yourself into trouble? Why did you confirm his words after all? How do you know that Gambar was not saying Those words against that despot deliberately? When thousands of innocent people have been executed, And thousands exiled, Will they set someone free Who has called the government leader "enemy"? Where was the logic in this, after all? I couldn't believe his curses were honest. What if he were complaining deliberately about his life, about the times, What if he were trying to get my opinion. And what did I do? Me, fool that I am, Told him what I thought. That night I couldn't sleep, With thoughts I fought... What thoughts did I have: When they come to imprison me, They will search my archives, And then my writings, dear me. I thought what I had, white or black! Like a stranger I looked inside myself, Then got out of bed at midnight, And began scrutinizing my poems. Like an inspector, I looked at the poems Still unpublished And a shudder came over me. "If they find these," I said to myself, "That despot will kill me," Maybe to burn them? What else could I do? After all, who is indifferent to the life he leads? Such trouble to burn the poems That demand truth and justice from this world! I have to sacrifice my thoughts and feelings Just to live out the rest of my life! My body became cold, my heart trembled With the fire and flame of the burning poems. But I spared some of them Saying, "It is enough," Saying, "That'll do." I spared some of my poems that day, Crumpled papers still remain. I hid them for the future, I hid them in my mother's artificial leg. I turned over my thoughts and judgments page by page: "As soon as the dawn breaks I'll go to him. I'll ask him not to betray me, I'll tell him I was lying yesterday, 'Let's keep it between ourselves. I was agreeing just to support what you had said. In fact, I love that genius leader very much. He has bestowed these happy days upon us. He is our only support in this world, He is our thinking brain, our seeing eye.'" "What a mistake I've made," Thinking so till morning, I blamed myself. As soon as the dawn broke, I got up and dressed. At the same time, someone began knocking at the door... Who might it be so early in the morning? I stood before the mirror My body trembling. I had no strength even to open the door. "He must have already betrayed me last night. They're coming to arrest me, where shall I flee?" And knocks continued- Knock, knock and knock. The knocking wouldn't cease Without achieving its aim... "Who's there?" "It's me, brother." It was Gambar's voice. That was enough for me. Perhaps he had come as a witness, Or come to make me be silent. I opened the door with trembling hands, He fell on my neck and embraced me, And began crying bitterly. He cast a sorrowful glance To the left, then to the right. Began hastily interpreting The talk we had had a day before. "I was just joking yesterday; In truth, I love that genius leader. He is our only support in this world. He is our thinking brain, our seeing eye." I understood him, But kept silent... Realizing the falsehood Of all those interpretations. Time had made hypocrites of us all, Making us deny all we had said a day after our talk, It turned out he also had not slept that night. ________ Footnotes: 1 Gambar Huseinli is perhaps most fondly remembered for his children's song, "Jujalarim" - My Little Chicks [See AI 5.4, Winter 1997]. Sound Sample: SEARCH at AZER.com 2 The father of the nations - meaning Stalin. Back to - Bakhtiyar Vahabzade Index Home | About Azeri | Learn Azeri | Arabic Script | Contact us © Azerbaijan International. Copyright since 2003. All rights reserved.