I was born on August 16, 1925 in Shaki, mountainous a historic city in Azerbaijan. I remember the mountains of Shaki were covered with oak, elm, pistachio, and willow trees. So most of the inhabitants of this area made their yards living as woodcutters. They dug big holes in their yards where they burned logs and sold the charcoal at town market. My grandfather, father and uncles were all woodcutters. When I was a child, I went with them to bring logs to the city. Each day we made several trips to the woods and brought back logs on the backs of our donkeys.
My brother, Isfandiyar, was four years older than I. When I was seven, he would take me to school with him. In those days, children started school at the age of eight.
In 1934, my family moved to Baku. Since I didn’t know any Russian, I was not allowed start fourth grade. I repeated third grade.
It took me a long time to get accustomed to Baku and its very different dry nature. In Baku, my father was a worker in the silk factory for a long time. After becoming ill, he worked as a waiter and then as a cook at a restaurant. My mother, Gulzar, was a house-wife. She didn’t know how to read or write, but she had a very good memory and a rich imagination. She would always tell me her own versions of the fairy tales. Sometimes, in order to give me advice, she would come up with her own stories. My grandfather, father, and all of my uncles were illiterate, expert for an uncle, named Alisharaf, who had studied a few years at the religious school and knew to read and write. My elder brother was the first educated person in our family.
In 1942, I finished high school and entered Azerbaijan State University to study Philology. I wrote my first poems when I was at high school. They were rather immature and lacked literary value. At the university I was a member of the literary society established by our distinguished writer and professor Mir Jala. This was crucial in my literary career.
In those days, all that mattered in a poetic style was the rhetoric. Emphasis was on the form of the literary work; the subject matter had no importance. However, a younger generation of poets such as A. Babyev, N. Khazri, Ghabil and H. Huseinzada, were trying to distance themselves from this style and be more attentive to the issue of content.
In this effort works such as, "Manam" (That’s Me) by N. Ghanjali, "Gumush Sarv" (The Silver Cedar) by N. Khazri, “Chinar” (The Sycamore) by A. Babayev, “Gara Shani (Black Grape) by Gabil, and my “Yeshil Chaman Agaj Alti (Grass Under the Treel), were steps toward a new poetic style. These poems attracted the attention of S. Vurgun and Mehdi Hussein, who were prominent Azerbaijani poets.
In 1945, with the recommendation of S. Vurgun, who was then the chair of the writer's union in Azerbaijan, I was accepted as a member of the Soviet Union's writer union. In 1949, my first book, "Manim Dostlarim" (My Friend's), and in 1950, my second book, "Bahar" (Spring) were published.
I have been an admirer of S. Vurgun ever since I was a young boy. I wrote my thesis, "Samad Vurgun's Lyrics" in 1951, and in 1964, I defended my doctoral dissertation, "Samad Vurgun's Artistic Path." After finishing the university, I remained active as a poet. I was employed, first as an assistant professor and then a professor, at the university.Both careers shared a common objective. In the prologue of my poem, "Giymat", I refer to this issue:
My days and hours are divided in half, time is my wealth,
teaching my life, poetry, my passion.
My critics consider me a poet with ties to tradition and custom. In a situation where people must conform like chickens in an incubator, customs and traditions become very valuable. Uniformity is the enemy of art. Constantly in search of new colors, art and literature demand vividness and diversity.
Then what about modernism? I set-modernism as being connected to the root, but giving life to very different branches. One should keep up with the spirit of the time and changing thoughts.
However, I don't believe in the kind of modernism that directs an artist to search for new ideas outside his own culture. I have written a short story about this very issue called, "My Grandmother's Carpet."
"Every heart has a new voice
Be yourself, be new
you'll be old if you imitate."
The aim is to live with the feelings of the time, and to animate them. Form by itself is not an aim: it is only a medium.
So far, I have 40 books published in Azerbaijani, 12 in Russian, 2 in Armenian, 2 in Uzbek, 3 in Turkish, and 1 in German. Since 1965, my plays: "Vijdan" (Conscious), "Ikinji Sas" (The Second Voice), "Yagishdan Sonra" (After the Rain), "Yollara Iz Dushur" (Traces in The Paths), and "Faryad" (City), have been performed at the Azerbaijani State Theatre. Some of them have been performed in Armenian, Turkmen and Uzbek languages.
As a tourist and government representative, I have traveled to different counties such as Iraq, Morocco, Greece, Italy, Turkey, Germany, England, Portugal and Egypt. I have written my impressions of these trips in the form of essays and poetry. I have also translated some works by writers that I like. These translations have been published in a book called "Har Chichakdan Bir Lachak" (Of Each Flower a Petal).
Reflecting upon my work, I can say that those that have come from my heart, passionately felt, have been more successful. Those that I have written without feeling for their subjects, have died in infancy. Those works written out of intense feeling have found a way into my readers hearts. In my Art, I am more myself because I feel more sincere.
Sincerity is the heart and the major blood vessel of literature. My poems reflect my love,a love that is my nature. Because of the need to love, I create. My readers once asked, "What is the driving force behind your works?" To be honest, I had never thought of that, then I remembered my poem, "My Poems, My Belief." I answered that question by reading the poem. This poem explains that poems are a poets's belief and his way of thinking. For this reason when we write the biography of a poet, we must search through the artist's work, not a list of meaningless dates.
To be a poet, one must feel the pain of others. My heart is open to pain and suffering around the world. I seek inspiration through this pain that my heart translates into poetry. Such poems as "Bag" (Head), "Dan Yeri" (Seed-bed), "Elm-Akhlagh" (Knowledge - Morality), "Tabbasum Ordeni" (Smile), "Gurbanlig Guzu" (Sacrificial Lamb), "Sulh Mukafati" (Peace Prize), "Netron Bombasi" (Neutron Bomb), "Goz Ya Gulag" (Eyes or Ears), "Sairleri Oldururler" (They are Killing the Poets), "Tarihin Ganunu" (Laws of History), "Tazzadlar" (Contradictions), "American Gozali" (American Beauty), "Bagislayin Sahv Olup" (Sorry, There Has Been A Mistake), and some others, have been disseminated in newspapers around the world. In these poems, of course, lie the future and the fate of my country. My book, "Bir Gamida Safardayuk" (We Are All Traveling in One Boat), addresses this issue particularly. A concerned citizen of one's own country, is also a citizen of the world.
I have been critical of myself ever since my childhood. In my poem, "Who Is My Enemy," I say that if I could read the mind of those who are critical of me, I could be a very good person. An old Azerbaijani proverb says, "The strongest champion is the one who knows how to beat himself."
I work during the night. This is the time when I can achieve a dialogue with myself. 1 work for long hours and find relaxation in it. On days that I don't work, I don't feel good about myself.
Since 1985, with M. Gorbachev's efforts to create an open society in the Soviet Union, Soviet authors, including Azerbaijani authors, have started writing in different and new ways. The Iron Curtain which fell between writers and their work has lifted and they have begun to openly express the suffering which occurred under dictatorial regimes, especially the repressive Stalin era. My poem, "Iki Gorku"(Two Fears), written in 1988, is about the repression of writers, including myself, during that period. That year, I also published my poem "Guilustan," that I wrote years before, but hid until that time.
During the repression, I always managed to voice my protest and criticism by masking it with a different time frame and geographical setting. In reality, I spoke of contemporary issues and my own society in historical allegories like, "Dar Agaci" (Gallows) 1972, "Yollar Ogullar" (The Ways The Boys) 1963, and my play "Faryad" (Cry) 1981-1984. The works that I have attributed to different subjects include, "America Gozali" (American Beauty) 1982, "Marziya" 1983, and "Bagislayin Sahv Olup" (Sorry There Has Been a Mistake) 1983. Among the works in which I have used other geographical locations are, "Latin Dili" (The Latin Language) 1967, "Sairleri Oldururler" (They Kill the Poets) 1978, "Hyde Park" 1978, and "Ehramlarin Onunda" (Before the Pyramids) 1959.
The newly established openness in the Soviet Union un locked the lips of (he people and writers, but other problems, were unfortunately created over questions of nationality. For this my country paid a very high price. During the regional dispute between Azerbaijan and Armenia, Soviet tanks, in violation of the constitution, invaded my country. As a result many people, including children and the elderly, lost their lives. This was one of the fruits of the reforms aimed toward so-called democracy. The most horrifying fact about that event was that the soldiers were not only shooting at people in the street, but at houses through the windows. What was the cause of this violence? The answer is clear. The Moscow government wanted to suppress nationalistic aspirations of the people and their demand for independence. This was an effort to maintain the Soviet imperialistic power over us. How could one stay silent against these atrocities? In protest, along with tens of thousands of people, I renounced my membership in the Communist Party. Many questions about that invasion remain unanswered.
I am considered Azerbaijan's people's poet. I have received recognition and many prizes for my works . Many people, drunk with fame and popularity, just doze off. To me this is very dangerous. An artist must know how to awaken from this sleep.
Trans. Shouleh Vatanabadi
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