Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021
Ali Jafaroglu Azerbaijan
Captive eyes (Story) From the doors from the eyes, full of melancholy, looking at their home, large tears poured onto the roses, red as blood, peeking out near their feet. The beautiful flowers were saddened by the influence of falling tears, they were restlessly examining everything around them, as if anticipating some amazing and terrible event. With very early gray hair, with large and exhausted eyes falling into a hole, with a faded face, a tall and slightly thin man was suffocating from the sad thoughts he had endured. These disturbing thoughts peeped openly from the face. From the news he had just heard, he was so affected that the brains were deprived of the ability to understand and condemn what was happening. Saying goodbye to years of longing, only now I found the opportunity to get to my native land. During the Great Patriotic War, after being wounded, he was captured, since then his love for the Motherland has never left him. Even in the most difficult moments, being face to face with death, faith and love for life did not lose human will. However, it is a pity that this separation lasted neither less nor more, exactly sixteen years. year I, no. 12, 2021, June
The bus, which left Baku at midnight, arrived in time in the center of the district in the morning. He got off the bus. To find a car in his native village, he walked with wide steps to the minibus. Finally, seeing the bus, he entered, sat down in one of the seats in the last row and looked out the window, observing the surrounding home world. The bus station was moved to the southern part of the city and improved. Here, trees planted in one row and significantly grown, in this summer heat, with their wide leaves, protected a person from the burning sun's rays. Sometimes a weak breeze made the leaves move, with joy and delight, as if he had opened his wings and wanted to fly. Conversations with a loud voice, the voices of passers-by, the sounds of cars created a landscape with mixed noise. Finally, a few minutes later the bus left the territory of the bus station. Driving past the new park, for a moment I saw the erected monument. No matter how hard I tried, I could not remember this monument. Probably built later, he thought. The sight of this knight, with the pick raised up, resembled the image in the work of the great Azerbaijani writer Nizami Ganjavi "Khosrov and Shirin", where Farkhad, in love with Shirin, breaks through the rocks of Mount Bisutun. But I considered it unnecessary to ask others about it. Because, it was planned in advance not to reveal his identity to anyone. Only after he learns detailed information about family and friends, he can reveal his identity.
27
prose 27-30
The bus turned left in front of the railway ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198
