I wish the night was short, like my hair,
And that it was bright, like my heart,
And I could tie the distance between us with my life.
These tears are nothing but drops from my eyes,
And now I'm being rusted by them.
Yet the night is long, like my thoughts,
And horrifying, like my dreams,
And the distance as endless as my longing.
The sun is drunk, on the other side of the long pass where I came from,
Embraced by the night.
My hair has grayed,
But the night has remained dark.
Half of my hair is gone,
But the night is as thick as before.
— Abdushukur Muhammet ( Uyghur poet)
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