Our doomed leaders

Recalling the promised springs
in this cold winter, the curse rises to my lips –

Ba le dozexda bisute ewey dengi emey sutand.
Ba le mihnetda bigawze ewey chawi emey frand.

He in whom we had hope stuffed our vision in his bag,
the vivid colours of our world slipped into his deep pockets.

He in whom we had hope took our voice with him
and marched towards the future.

He had promised to bring new colours to our land.

Unknown to us
the blueness of water said goodbye to him
the sparrows framed him with their song
the butterflies of death flew around his head.

Jahangir, the fourth Mughal Emperor, weighs his son Prince Khurram (the future Shah Jahan) in gold and silver (detail). From Tuzuk-i Jahangiri (Memoirs of Jahangir), c. 1615