{"id":390,"date":"2023-12-21T13:13:19","date_gmt":"2023-12-21T13:13:19","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/?p=390"},"modified":"2023-12-21T13:13:19","modified_gmt":"2023-12-21T13:13:19","slug":"prof-dr-mammad-ismayil-vice-president-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/prof-dr-mammad-ismayil-vice-president-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Prof.Dr. Mammad Ismayil, Vice President"},"content":{"rendered":"

Poet, Prof.Dr. Mammad Ismay\u0131l was born in November, 1939 in the Esrik village of Tovuz region in Azerbaijan republic. His father Murshud died during the Second World War when he was a year old. He finished the secondary school in Esrik in 1957, later in 1964 he graduated from Azerbaijan State University. He successfully completed two years of higher literature courses of \u201cThe Union of<\/em><\/p>\n

Writers of the USSR\u201d in Moscow and in 1998 he received his doctorate with a thesis titled \u201cThe motifs of Ashik poem in the modern Azerbaijan Poetry\u201d. He worked as a department manager of Azerbaijan Television and Radio company from 1966 to 1973, an editor-in-chief in the cinema studio from 1976 to 1983, later, between the years 1983-1987 he was a general director of \u201cIshik\u201d publishing house. He became a founder and a general manager of the magazine called \u201c Genclik\u201d (Molodost), published in two languages: Azerbaijani and Russian from 1988 to 1992, a secretary of the Union of Azerbaijan Writers and the director of the Literary Union of Young Writers of the same union from 1986 to 1997. He was the general manager of the Television and Radio State Company of Azerbaijan from 1992 to 1993. Mammad Ismay\u0131l was selected a co-chairman of Democratic Forces which had an important role in the struggle for freedom in Azerbaijan. In 1993, because of his political views, he had to leave his Motherland and from 1995 to 1996 he worked as a specialist in 96 the project of Turkish Polish Dictionary of the Turkish Language Association in Ankara. Since 1996 he is a professor at Canakkale 18 March University. He was a member of Union of Writers and Journalists in the USSR and still he is a member of Union of Writers of Azerbaijan and Eurasia. He is a representative of Turkey in the Union of International Writers and Journalists and a member of the editorial board of the journal \u201cLiteraturnaya Znakomstvo\u201d (Literary Acquaintance) published in Moscow. The poems of Mammad Ismay\u0131l were translated into more than fifty languages and published in different countries. Until now, more than twenty books in Azerbaijani, eight books in Russian in Moscow, nine books in Turkish in Turkey, one book in Kazakh in Kazakhstan, two books in French in France were published. He was rewarded to \u201c Golden Pen\u201d for the television program \u201cLand of Fire\u201d in 1969, \u201cKomsomol\u201d for the book of poems \u201cThe word told in time\u201d in 1978, N.Ostrovski reward for the books \u201cArable land over the sea\u201d and \u201cThe word told in time\u201d in Moscow. In 1996, he became first in the poetry competition \u201cHappy Birthday Week\u201d organized by the Foundation of Religious Affairs of Turkey, consequently, in 1997 Mammad Ismay\u0131l was rewarded to \u201cService to Turkish World\u201d medal by Association of Writers and Artists of Turkey. In September 2012,<\/em><\/p>\n

he received the diploma of first degree in the International Symposium held in Crimea where four hundreds of scientists and artists had attended. Later in 2014 in Moscow, he was rewarded to \u201cSergey Yesenin\u201d medal and got the certificate of \u201cGolden Fall\u201d for the contribution to the Russian and Turkish literature. More than one hundred and fifty scientific works were translated and published in different languages of the world. He is the author of many scientific documentaries, more than fifty poems were composed by the composers. He participated in the international poem festivals in Hungary, Syria, Russia, Turkey, Vietnam, Rumania, Yakutiya and other countries. His poems were published in \u201cAnthology of World Poetry\u201d in Rumania in 2015. Each year the literary award in his name is given in Turkey<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

GOD KNOWS <\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Where does it get its sweetness<\/p>\n

how can the honey know?<\/p>\n

If you can,<\/p>\n

go and ask,<\/p>\n

The bee knows.<\/p>\n

Where did you sleep in the night<\/p>\n

you know<\/p>\n

Where will you wake up in the morning<\/p>\n

The God knows.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

SACRED DESTINY<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

For the\u00a0 memory of my mother G\u00fclzar<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

We were four<\/p>\n

A spotted sheep<\/p>\n

A wild apple<\/p>\n

My mother and me<\/p>\n

In the memory of future life<\/p>\n

They were sent to the Earth<\/p>\n

My mother was the bridal dress of the beauty<\/p>\n

The apple was the sprout of the forests<\/p>\n

I was the babyhood of the humanity<\/p>\n

When you have a time, just squeeze me<\/p>\n

And see\u00a0 who I am?!<\/p>\n

I am a mother pie,<\/p>\n

Apple juice, sheep milk.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I AM AT THE PLACE YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN\u00a0 <\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

-Spring,\u00a0 where do you come from?<\/p>\n

From the place I found the God<\/p>\n

– Summer, where do you come from?<\/p>\n

-From the place I was aged<\/p>\n

– Autumn, where do you come from?<\/p>\n

From the place I was withered up<\/p>\n

-Winter, where do you come from?<\/p>\n

From the place I was forgotten<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mourning for the life passed<\/p>\n

I’m at the north coast.<\/p>\n

Sun behind the clouds<\/p>\n

I am in a foreign land<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Is there anyone who asks for me?<\/p>\n

Where am I, where am I?<\/p>\n

Search your memory well<\/p>\n

I am at the place you have forgotten.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

PICTURE OF THE FATHER<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Railway station … Train rails<\/p>\n

In the middle,\u00a0 snow falls in silence<\/p>\n

At the back, backless youth<\/p>\n

How could he know, what\u00a0 is ahead<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Separation … the heart of the time was bored<\/p>\n

A darkening evening on the horizon<\/p>\n

My father was with me, my luck was awake<\/p>\n

My luck was awake, but I was sleeping<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Do these cold verses say something<\/p>\n

The sound of the snow was also heard later…<\/p>\n

Imagine a mother, aged twenty,<\/p>\n

A son, at most,\u00a0 at one and a half years<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Destiny can see the things the human cannot see<\/p>\n

What happened in the past, what will happen in the future<\/p>\n

This train intends to take us apart<\/p>\n

Released\u00a0 with steam breath<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Need to talk was freezing in the air<\/p>\n

Father’s words are broken:<\/p>\n

“The light of my eyes, open your eyes<\/p>\n

Maybe,\u00a0 this\u00a0 is the last separation!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

What is this bitter cold?<\/p>\n

My premonition came true<\/p>\n

There is no need to prove or explain<\/p>\n

The word \u201cfather\u201d\u00a0 is already a proof .<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Days passed, months passed, years heaped up<\/p>\n

The time nibbles my life bit by bit…<\/p>\n

I shut my eyes, my luck is tied up<\/p>\n

Even I untie it,\u00a0 my luck will not be\u00a0 unwrap.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The name of\u00a0 \u201cthe father” is my lifetime comrade<\/p>\n

The blood of the memory of my childhood is cold…<\/p>\n

There is nothing left such as\u00a0 memories<\/p>\n

There is not even a picture to look and cry…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

… The time tries to exit through the gap,<\/p>\n

The snow spinning in the air…<\/p>\n

Life leaves the life… From this separation<\/p>\n

The train leaves with the smoke on its head…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Time was trembling when thinking something<\/p>\n

It holds Joseph\u2019s cut rope<\/p>\n

One of the road would have a return,<\/p>\n

But one is\u00a0 \u201cone way only\u201d.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The train pulls off\u00a0 the\u00a0 unbearable troubles<\/p>\n

Seeing the state\u00a0 of the person who looks but not see<\/p>\n

Day already down on the mountains<\/p>\n

The moon was glad see the clouds in the sky.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The train\u00a0 would take off pulling the troubles<\/p>\n

The dreams of\u00a0 the baby was snowy…<\/p>\n

If he had open his bloody eyes, maybe<\/p>\n

He would have a picture of his father within himself…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

SWORD HANGING\u00a0 ON HOPE <\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

Our mind was young and sufficient at that time<\/p>\n

Nostalgia was wandering around\u00a0 the stream and the plains<\/p>\n

A name was mentioned during the conversation.<\/p>\n

We were like a sword hanging on hope,<\/p>\n

The mothers took us from the swaddle<\/p>\n

And put us in between the themselves and\u00a0 desire<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

… So, \u00a0<\/strong>after a hard day came the evening\u00a0\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

The sun would fall down to the branch of mountain from the distance.<\/p>\n

The mother would have the evening in her eyes,<\/p>\n

The brides were fall to the bed, tired.<\/p>\n

Someone would knock the door,<\/p>\n

Open,<\/p>\n

Me, I came.<\/p>\n

The footsteps would fall down to the heart<\/p>\n

Return back and come back again\u2026<\/p>\n

In the dreams of the\u00a0 mother brides,<\/p>\n

The empty space of the soldier fathers.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

There was the pain in the\u00a0 dawn,<\/p>\n

There was …<\/p>\n

It was not heard and no one knows.<\/p>\n

It was the snow on the roads,<\/p>\n

It was snow.. No one came to the houses\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The footpaths\u00a0 were dead at the many gardens<\/p>\n

The roads were facing each other\u00a0 come to an end\u2026<\/p>\n

In the sleeping snowy village<\/p>\n

Only the fresh sprouts were awakening.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

We were like a sword hanging on hope,<\/p>\n

We were sharp: :<\/p>\n

Sharp as the word “I Love” !<\/p>\n

Sharp as the eye of the needle<\/p>\n

As the selfish\u00a0 greedy eyes\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The cry and complain of the bride<\/p>\n

Hardly could warm her mother heart<\/p>\n

Her emotions and desires had died<\/p>\n

Her love and affections as well\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Where would the flow of the life goes<\/p>\n

The burned off and dimmed out.<\/p>\n

They brightened their husband\u2019s home<\/p>\n

And were\u00a0 transformed to a \u201chonour nest\u201d !<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Give me the familiar smell of the pillows,<\/p>\n

Drown,\u00a0 suppressed \u00a0excitements\u2026<\/p>\n

Give the mothers\u2019 bridesgown<\/p>\n

The lives lived\u00a0 and died in one heart<\/p>\n

There is a part\u00a0 of their life in our life\u2019s<\/p>\n

Maybe the mothers made a mistake<\/p>\n

Give it, what is the sin of the brides?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Our mind was young and sufficient at that time<\/p>\n

Nostalgia was wandering around\u00a0 the stream and the plains<\/p>\n

A name was mentioned during the conversation.<\/p>\n

We were like a sword hanging on hope,<\/p>\n

The mothers took us from the swaddle<\/p>\n

And put us in between themself and\u00a0 desire<\/p>\n

Between\u00a0 this earth
\nBetween this sky<\/p>\n

Between this world<\/p>\n

Between the their love\u00a0 and themselves!… \u00a0English version by Baanu Akkok<\/em><\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Poet, Prof.Dr. Mammad Ismay\u0131l was born in November, 1939 in the Esrik village of Tovuz region in Azerbaijan republic. His father Murshud died during the Second World War when he was a year old. He finished the secondary school in Esrik in 1957, later in 1964 he graduated from Azerbaijan State University. He successfully completed […]<\/p>","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":3439,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[161,162],"tags":[],"book_author":[],"book_publisher":[],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/390"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=390"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/390\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3438,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/390\/revisions\/3438"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3439"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=390"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=390"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=390"},{"taxonomy":"book_author","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/book_author?post=390"},{"taxonomy":"book_publisher","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/book_publisher?post=390"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}