Azam Abidov Tashkent, Uzbekistan
Azam Abidov Tashkent, Uzbekistan AZAM ABIDOV (Aazam Abidov, A’zam Obid), poet, translator, short short story writer, cultural adviser, was born on November 8, 1974 in Namangan, city of flowers, Uzbekistan. He trained in philology. He has several books of poetry and translation to his credit, including Tunes of Asia (English translation of contemporary Uzbek poetry), The Island of Anxiety (poems in Uzbek, English and Spanish), Dream of Lightsome Dawns, A Miracle Is On the Way and I Leave You in Complete Boredom. He also translated some ghazals and epic poem (‘Farhod and Shirin’) by Alisher Navoi, father of Uzbek poetry, into English. Azam also translated novels and short stories by famous Uzbek writers such as Erkin A’zam, Evril Turon and Salomat Vafo into English. Azam’s poems have been translated into more than 20 languages and published worldwide. He was a Creative Writing Fellow at the University of Iowa in the U.S. (2004) and a writer-in-residence at LCB in Berlin (2017). He attended poetry festivals, creative writing workshops and cultural events in over 20 countries. In collaboration with Uzbek poet Bahrom Ruzimuhammad, Azam compiled two international poetry anthologies, Fish and Snake and The Language of the Birds, involving hundreds of contemporary poets from around the world. He is also a World Poetry Movement’s coordinator of poetry events in Uzbekistan, and one of the founders of Maysara literary and cultural club at the Yudakov and Oybek House-Museums in Tashkent. In 2018, Azam launched the first-ever Writer/Artist Residency Program in Uzbekistan for foreign authors and artists (http://azamabidov.uz/?cat=29). Azam lives in Tashkent, Uzbekistan.
I wish I were gigantic (I dedicate this poem to all innocent people killed and living in conflict zones, including in Nagorno-Karabakh.) I wish I were gigantic, Those who launch a war Don’t tell me you are leading, You laugh, You watch, Ignore, You keep my soul bleeding. I wish I were gigantic, As big as Planet Earth, I ain’t romantic, I’m antique, 97
