Author of quotes: Afzaladdin Khagani

... I am a parrot, what wisdom taught,
But city of evil - Shirvan - I cell was.
Ruined me this humpback man,
Cutting off my beak, wings and tongue.
From India of fun he brought
Me here in the abode of evil and tears.
He said: "Of shark jaws drink!"
And deadly poison food became my.
So in India back to fly,
Like a parrot - I must die.
To serve despicable do not want to!
Though I was born for songs - I am silent!
Language tied I, mouth closed casket
I was locked inside the soul Palace.
Oh, if my tongue was a sword
And I did my job and did not!
Yes, Shamakhi fine, good!
But in the dungeon my soul.
And each hair of my body
Became a watchman of the dungeon that.
Not that the friends I see -
Me and the wind do not want to start.
And if step I make in the silence
Or sigh from the depths of the soul,
Enemies lasso this breath will take
And distort, and the Shah will carry.

You complain about oppression and evil.
Listen to how it all went.
Like shell, I'm in the depths of troubles
Sealed. And I no way.
To pearls to take to the sash to open,
The fate of the knife tore into his chest.
I'm in flame, I don't take a break.
In the hands of trouble, I showered, like mercury.
Was the eyesore of fate,
Small - pox- pits on the cheeks of fate.
But that's leukoma century my
And pockmarks Shirvan and evil.
Yes, had I the wings of an eagle,
I saw the world. But the broken wing.
I rage captured and surrounded.
And every breath my bitter and constrained.
In the yoke - I is similar to the mill by ox -
Rotating gate I in the circle of his.
My Miller - age. He rides me
I'm not giving to relax for a single day.
Bull mill spinning for a year
In the circle squeezed reluctantly goes -
The grain he grinds, to make glad the heart,
And no his suffering end.
To achieve the goal he is on the go
And yet to him the goal is not reached.
Suffocation presses hard my breast.
I'm sitting alone, tears.
I heart the flame burned the inner
And the blood on the eyelids tears turned.
The vessel of my soul is broken, on the other,
My work falls from the hands, -
So, when the lamp oil is not available,
Dims and shakes the lamps light.
Have the right holiday - Novruz{*} in the spring.
But where is he - the Novruz spring mine?
Last year, my hair is silver,
As numbers of the old calendar.
After new year it will not coincide;
Your calendar starts the new year
And the old calendar, that the whole passed,
Takes out from the library,
And with the trash burn it
Il Bookman give it.
It happened so now my fate:
That old calendar that my friend, is me.
Did not know the truth I in the hearts of men,
Or rather, not even heard about it.
Yusuf{*} from the brothers went through a lot.
Because of the friends I have shed more tears.
I stone, in a corner thrown, lie,
From bitter anguish to come.
Declined all my business
Disease the fire in my chest was on fire.

Look carefully, that's a lesson to you.
Became the dust of the city of Medan {*}, Oh, miserable rock!
Come on, heart, in a way. We Degla{*} the way to go.
But deeper than the river, flammable tears flow.
And Degla cried, as the hundred streams of blood,
Whose deep run sad and wide.
And the mouth Degli drink with insatiable thirst -
Bubbling in the heat and delirium of her deep.
See, it's lit up with horror and grief.
Have you heard when, to the water, the flames burned?
Pay the same as she secat{*} tears pays
Here, near the sea lips - salt your tax.
Oh, if the river still could tell us
How to beat the chills it all from head to toe!
She is in chains and the winds long chain,
It drove the fire and the horror dragged.
So go to the ruins and you'll hear
Cry from the deep, slurred voice.
Look how slowly crumbling teeth:
Everything is temporary. All - decay. Around the appointed time.
Trample us, people. We, like you, istinye.
We, like you, the carpet for all walking feet.
As head aches from the howling owls at midnight,
At least your tears we refreshed gulp!
Here the truth is lived. It has not spared.
Will pay the one who with us was cruel?
Eh changeable fate, or her breaks
The one who charred the our sublime Palace.
Don't laugh at my weeping - remember, the traveler:
Who did not shed tears, that is low and lame.
Once Medan was not poorer Kufa{*} -
Cry, the traveler, and understand how deep my shame.
Because these stone walls have so many hands touched
The prints lay on every corner.
The gatekeeper here was the ruler of Babylon,
Oh, and Turkestan, - blows war horn...
Balconies collapsed, was tolikely beams.
Here was once the floor, here is a round ceiling.
Don't be surprised! Where the warblers rattled,
One owl screams deplorable his rebuke.
Get down! Touch the face of the earth barren.
We were given a Mat elephants on the worst of boards.