Nurbek Nurzhanuly – was born on May 29, 1995 in the village of Akermen, Merki District of Zhambyl Region. Nurbek Nurzhanuly graduated from the Faculty of Journalism of al-Farabi Kazakh National University. Then he received a Master’s degree from Ardahan University, Turkey. He is the author of two collections of poems “Muń Aı” (Sad moon), and a book of prose “Tánsіz gúlder” (Bodyless Flowers). He lives in Almaty and works as a correspondent for the newspaper “Kazakh University.”
***
A soft ray of sun falls on the flower in the picture,
My soul –
Like last year’s newspaper,
Left on your table faded in the sun …
I didn’t even look at the calendar
And tomorrow I will not look …
There are sweet letters on the table in the stack.
I’ll take a white cat, like in your yard,
Lengthen my hair,
Lengthen my time,
I will close the creaky door …
I probably won’t wait for you …
And in the evening
I will water the buds of the moonlight blossomed in my window glass,
I will water the spring grown on my window…
When I miss something сover with the cool air,
I turn on the lamp at night
A soft paw slides over the floor.
I turn on the radio with a hangover voice
Although I don’t listen, but this is not a lonely room ..
However, I’m waiting for a sad song …
… probably won’t wait for you
I pour tea in two cups,
splash a little.
I will drink hot tea with only a wish;
… that the second cup does not cool!
… You probably will not come, Inessa!
***
From my window
I see dozing mountains,
I see the frozen sky,
I see a light that has not reached its goal
I reach out my hand
…Understand it.
It’s snowing again
I miss my mother
Have my eyelashes touched
I see stars falling.
I see a village
The sky which flows from
my eyes…
My past is my struggle
…I see regret, disappointment, oh, my dear…
An empty cup in front of me,
Bitten apple slice,
And loneliness.
Upset still
Night sits in the corner.
This is all because of me
It’s all my fault…
Your tired shuffling of your slippers scratch the floor.
Candle hanging in the air
Hanging over me all night.
My fingers turned yellow
Bottles out of my hands
falling on the floor.
…Once again I beg you,
I bow my head before you…
Opened up my heart, hung it in the sun
Washed out early.
It still hangs undried
Drops dripping from my chest…
***
Looks like me:
Both the city and the garden
Even a portrait, a desk,
Paper –
my soul didn’t go there
A bluish sunbeam also streams in the air…
There was a knock on the door, I opened it – and there was a shadow,
The glass broke, and I looked and there was a night, a road.
Houses here are lower than me,
My old apartment is younger than me…
Only,
The advertisement on the notice board
Searching for its reader at night…
If a bored wanderer snatches a piece, a page long whine in the wind…
The cars are swarming like flies are honking near my window.
And the street, like a night owl, won’t close its eyes…
The city wakes up with tears in its eyes – all in palaces and luxury in the background, and in a dream the poor fellow …
***
Almaty, the cherry is ripe,
I fell in love with life even more…
Learned to have fun…
The rain pouring like cats and dogs…
Smiles at me
young beautiful universe.
I kiss your blue eyes
When the light comes from your eyelashes…
Please, don’t sleep tonight
Get up early to catch the first braided rays of the morning sun
The sky is a diyine garden
Listen to the voice and the calling of its night fruit.
Night is the kingdom;
peace of mind,
also, a servant.
The night is a palace, decorated,
Beauty is like feeling.
ruby sparkles,
Like the eyes of a loved one…
Then the dawn smiled
White beam of light tickles
Bare feet of a child.
Is there a shard in the corner?
Reflection in the shadows –
Its origin radiance
Fallen from the predawn darkness
under your feet.
Almaty, the ladybug has flown away,
And the crimson evening came.
My future is a dreamer child,
My past is a serious teacher…
***
Butterflies don’t fly in vain
No wonder the wind blows from the east…
Some of the birds chirped
The universe seems to scatter bird songs in handfuls …
What a beauty, what a marvel,
I am dying of tender spring.
As if the world will melt in my eyes
When the birds flap their wings…
The herd of clouds is spreading
in the blue sky
heading west…
Look at me,
turn around time
why are you in such a hurry…
Stop for a moment like you want to say goodbye
As I look at the world-glass…
Look at the steppe – a vital mother,
Breeds flowers like babies…
Gorgeous garden like my sister
Make-up and perfumed…
Crooked stones moving
A child of spring was born…
***
You know,
Today I saw an autumn,
Even held his hand –
hot, tender…
He also recognized me.
We went out.
Worn out
Conscience
hands outstretched to the sky,
A tear has dried up from my eyes…
Autumn spoke with me, and I answered –
Leaves underfoot say “we are people, servants of God”…
The soles of the feet to the outstretched palms
I say “destiny” –
now yellowed traces,
And these footprints are leaves…
My face is paper:
Love pen-stick
lips turned pale;
lipstick dried on my face.
Has time hung onto a withered tree?
Did it whisper, that he lost his soul?
Clocks hung on the willow, blown away by the wind.
Moon-leaf turns yellow at the tip of the willow…
leaning on my eyelashes from the balcony of my eyes
I’m looking for an autumn,
tears at the tip of my soul…
***
The night is calm and quiet.
Dreams Come True.
Soft snow fell on my face,
Gentle snow kissed me.
Dried book – smells like letters;
I would like to die at my desk
while continuing to write…
I would like to die
continuing to love …
Humpbacked – a dark lamp is gazing at the snow, the ice patterns…
The night is deep
the night is long, far away…
Familiar white light is broken,
A sky fed with dampness,
wrinkled
Dry snow falls:
far from evil,
away from helplessness
and from me too…
Falling snow is like letters
Which fall a blank verse poem…