Omaggio di Maria Teresa Liuzzo al poeta Sherzod Komil Khalil
Moderator 
SHERZOD KOMIL KHALIL
Biography
Sherzod Komil Khalil was born on September 13, 1982 in Kitob District, Kashkadarya Region, Republic of Uzbekistan. In 1999-2003, he studied at the faculty of philosophy of UzMU as a bachelor, in 2003-2005 he studied at the master's degree of the same faculty, and received a master's degree in modern western philosophy and history. In 2005-2007, he was a student of the Higher Literature course at UzMU and the Writers' Union of Uzbekistan. In 2016, the book "I left poetry" ("I left poetry") was published in English. His works have been translated into more than twenty languages and published in foreign countries. In 2019, Sherzod Komil Khalil was the laureate of the international youth writer award named after Magjon Jumaboy in Kazakhstan. In 2021, the writer was awarded the Mother Teresa Peace Prize in India. Sherzod Komil Khalil currently lives in Moscow, in the writer's town of Peredelkino.
THE SANG WORLD
The poets sang everything,
From visible things,
To invisible particles,
Neutrons,
Protons,
The sung atoms too!
The planetary system,
And what else more distant,
Were sung –
There is nothing left,
Even a flower,
The star,
About nightingale,
Rubble thorns,
A meteorite,
Ravens and jackdaws,
All are said words,
And the old metaphors,
Tractors,
Tanks,
Bronx trains,
The noise of engines were sung,
The reactor aircraft screw rotation,
The old Ages’ technologies,
Windmill,
Water-mill,
In the videos,
In the Rock n rolls,
And they were sung in the Jazz styles!
The disrepair and modernity were sung,
The poetry is the judge with its metaphors,
It linked,
Added all,
Not constructed the Chinese wall,
Removed the Berlin wall,
The militarist’s slanders,
The chauvinist’s deceptions,
The religion fanatic’s calls,
The art ignored –
(The exception is not art.)
A literature is my heartbeat!
Into my humanism,
And in my soul,
It ordered me to sing so,
Ordered to fight for truth –
To throw into repents and sins,
The consciences,
The soul,
It ordered me!
But what kind of poet I am?
What kind of singer?
While living in the sung world,
May I can’t see the other worlds.
May I can’t think about truth,
If I can’t sing about reality!
What kind of poet I am?
Its heart didn’t locate to rhymes,
Its sorrow didn’t locate to the rhythm!
The poetic forms as the wall of prison,
All rondos,
All rondels,
Ghazal,
Songs,
Sonnets,
Visual samples of poetry,
The Pyramid,
Rhombs,
The shaped poems don’t match to my poetry!
The poet privileged to live,
But didn’t look forward the same.
What exactly is interrupting me?
What is sticking a needle in my heart?
First of all, save my heart!
I am hearing the cannon’s rattles,
And the rocket’s whining.
Because of poverty,
And dying because of hunger,
I am hearing wails,
Of the African boys,
I am also hearing the signals of whales,
That swam around the oceans,
Before darting themselves to the bank,
I am hearing,
The weepings of the last plants,
The last birds,
The last animals,
Which brakaners captured.
I am hearing,
The cries coming from,
The mother Earth’s,
The mother globe’s aorta,
In the world that everything sung,
In the world that everything thought out,
I am hearing,
Are you also hearing?!
People!!!
I LEFT POETRY
Did the world change or I am?
What was passed, that happened to me.
Yesterday, I was writing poems to the girls,
They followed that my steps.
Now I killed myself,
I left the poetry.
Yesterday, I was speaking with the stars,
As if I am fascinated to the moon’s reflection.
Then I gave up entirely,
When I had lost your meeting!
What is wrong with me, actually?
I left the poetry.
Now it is the unreachable dissatisfaction,
That the golden poetry gardens.
The beautiful moments of yesterday,
Now I need to reach you.
I depreciated my childhood like that,
I left the poetry!
What is suffering for, what is a disappointment for?
What is for remembering the past?
The broken crystal never become total,
If a soul breaks there is no rivet.
Memories – I heckled you futile,
I left the poetry!
Since I also realised a life,
But I left, goodbye, take care.
The persons who considered the literature as erf,
Just keep calm slightly.
I devoted you my disgusting poem,
I left the poetry!
