Ardakh Nurgaz. Dark

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                                                           'Selves are a dialogue'



Completely destroyed

I have a body like a hollow cave

that will ring with a bellowing sound of thousands of years when a stone is thrown in

the lower ground seems a dryland with no leaping birds

when the tongue touches the stone, it turns into a stone

over the deserted street come flying countless butterflies

like ghosts that fly out of the urns ruined yesterday

the animals, let out for fresh air and having given up ploughing the field, are digging the history

            until it's faceless

the overbearing ones are making a continuous noise

each time the candle flame changes its face a moth turns into ashes


Black night, black skies, a star, out of countless stars, is lit and slides across the night sky

I've seen you lit up and sliding. But I didn't see the end of the ashes

like the language on the tip of the tongue, burning, illuminating, disappearing, merged inside the


till one knows not where it's gone

except that you are somewhere inside my inner world

and that you've slid across the night sky, burning and, having smashed the quietness and silence

            of the darkness, ending up merging into me


Dark night, I imagine you ripping your black sky apart

I'd like to see your face, eyes, pupils, cheeks, anntenna and body, all in the darkness

sucking the thrilling body odour, like the smells from the dryland of your body

and touching your fingers, your features, your forehead and your hair


You are right inside me


But who are you? Who am I?

the world can't be there just because it is seen

if there is a beginning, there will be an end

where am I rushing to?


I can't feel, imagining all the past centuries...

centuries are time, centuries may not be time

centuries are mountains that have sunken onto a flat bottom

are waves that rose when the meteor burned out after sliding across the black sky

waves, your kisses, breathings, wars, destructions, driftings, facing the hidden fate every minute

impossible for you to take hold of the abyss

she is time, a gentle voice, a silver earring lost in the cluster of reeds

is language, the sound of bells before prayers, a drop of water that leapt before disappearing in

            the puddle, silence that illuminated the darkness and merged into it


Why does it always happen in the evening and dawn when Ihanker after the initial light?


Every time I wake up, I am in a dream

when the tide is rising, with the clean water and silver pearls on the wave, and the bluish colour

            creeping unto the bank

I am there

the black continent, your body has my footsteps

when the waves invade the beach and the land is opened up by the footsteps, the history written

            into your body will be me

that is love, hate, jealousy, self-blame, contempt, greed, abjectness

is a final descent of oneself as a competitor, creating an eternal Other

and when I begin at your bank my footsteps are dim, blurry, dark, hidden ditches and rapids


even if with the fire, with a lit candle in hand, my features are still too dark to be recognized for



(Note: '...Man has experienced much. Selves are a dialogue and can listen to each other, which is why deities can be named,' quoted from Heidegger: Hölderlin and the Essence of Poetry.

                                                           Written in Kazakh by Ardakh Nurgaz

                                                           Translated into Chinese by Gulnar Akhan

                                                           Translated from the Chinese by Ouyang Yu




1.     阿尔达克·努尔哈兹:暗


2. A night at the theatre





4.     5 Poems by Ардак НУРГАЗЫ in English, Chinese and Kazakh


5.     Ardakh Nurgaz. Dolls in the Sky over the City

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