Issue 62 | Translated Poetry | December 2025

‘Clay’ & Other Poems

Liliya Gazizova

Translated from Russian by Valentina Chepiga

Translation Notes

Liliya Gazizova’s poems have already been translated into several languages, and my own experience translating her work into French and Greek showed me how naturally her voice adapts to new linguistic landscapes; rendering these poems into English felt just as organic, though it required preserving her understated imagery while shaping a rhythm that wouldn’t soften it, especially in the drifting movement of Between the Facades and the Sky, the gentle metaphysics of Clay and June, and the culturally rooted detail of Tashkent the Bird; in these versions I aim for a clear, unornamental fidelity to her shifts of thought, a voice attentive to both rhythm and texture.

—Valentina Chepiga

Clay

clay always wants to be

more than clay

for example, a wall

behind which laughter is heard

or perhaps a cup

where the cosmos gurgles

it wants to be the content

not just the vessel

it wants to have a name

yet receives the imprints

of tiny feet and little hands

clay always wants to be

more than clay

just like us

always half-spoken

always half-created

Between the Facades and the Sky

falling in love with the alleyways that drift

through the old town

that carry me away

from myself

almost breaking

against the wind

and losing myself like this

between the facades and the sky

turning my back

on the stars

and pretending to be me

June

in June it is sweet to be alive

especially on my birthday

it is easier to be someone who has disappeared

June knows the scent of waiting

the laughter that sings in the distance

and the glass that trembles

when love

looks into it

June sits on the edge of the window

letting its legs hang in the blue

in one hand it holds

a small coin that brings luck

in the other

a little paper airplane

made from a child’s note

on which is written

“I have not forgotten you”

time is not given to you

it is sewn into the air

with discreet stitches

so that you can breathe

June carries you in its palm

like a drop of warm water

and says

here she is

the one for whom the morning lingered

and no one contradicts it

because everything is truly in bloom

in June one does not grow old

but one can finish writing

his name

on the surface of the water

Tashkent the Bird

its wings are

woven from tie-dyed yarn

stitched from the curtains

of the past

the city turns time

like the pages of a child’s notebook

where writing changes

from one summer to the next

in its beak

it carries the seeds of old words

in its eyes

dance the reflections of the sun

like in old photographs

it sits on the minaret

and sees a distant courtyard

where a grandmother cuts melons

and calls the sky “God’s ceiling”

in its chest

an almond tree blooms

its tail

is the last route

in the memories of a woman

with hands of warm clay

it perches

on wires between times

and chirps

in the language of love

its beak is made of copper

its feathers smell of dried apricot

its nest

is hidden in the old minaret

but every morning

it pretends

to be barely born

from zero

from breath

sometimes it is mistaken

for a fever

for the voice of a mother

calling from the window

or for a childhood

tied to a branch with a metal wire

it knows

where the city ends

and where you begin

and there

it sings

Acknowledgements

Cover Image

Image credits: Clementine Keith-Roach. I is another (2024). Dimensions: 20 1/2″ x 58 1/4″ x 29 7/8″. Materials: terracotta vessel, plaster and resin composite, wood, steel, resin clay, modeling paste, and acrylic paint © Photo by Damian Griffiths.

Translator | Valentina Chepiga

Translator Photo

Valentina Chepiga is a lecturer (Russian and translation) in France and a poet. Into French, she has translated, among others, Vladimir Mayakovsky (with Elena Bagno), Igor Severyanin, Yevgeny Zamyatin, and Mikhail Yasnov; into Russian, Philippe Beck and Jacques Goorma.

Latest publication: Valentina Chepiga and Ksenia Volokhova, The Poetesses of the Russian Silver Age, anthology, Vibration Editions, 2025. [Text source: Valentina Chepiga]

Author | Liliya Gazizova

Author Photo

Liliya Gazizova (Dr. Janti), a Russian-language poet of Tatar origin, graduated of the Gorky Literary Institute in Moscow, professor of literature at Erciyes University (Kayseri, Turkey). General Secretary of the poetic journal Interpoezia (New York). Author of eighteen poetry collections. A feminine voice in contemporary Russian-language poetry, her work resonates with poetic echoes from various times and traditions.

Latest publication: Liliya Gazizova, Between Love and Earthquake (Vibration Editions, 2025), a trilingual collection of poems (Russian–French–Turkish), translated into French by Marek Mogilewicz and Valentina Chepiga, and into Turkish by Uğur Büke. [Text source: Valentina Chepiga]