Gamiqaya Şiiri - Kemale Nesrin Oğuz

In Nakhcivan a ship,
Ieans against the mountains.
Its desk is as table cloth
to a lot bunches of clouds.

Rain drops, snow fills
into the old hollows.
The juice of the sky
Drops on the foot of mountain.

Old craft protects history.
In target is a grey deer
A hunter puts an arrow to the bow.
My grandfathers sweated

planted on the stones.
They built houses with gold roofs,
They slept in the gold porches.
My grandmothrers made yogurt

From the milk of the golden sheep.
They knitted carped book
From the golden wool of sheep.

In Nakhcivan a ship
Ieans against the mountains.
The world can go in its deck
Its way is towards to eternity-
To all the cultures...