Poor Lamb Rasul Gamzatov - Poem by Yuri Starostin
Before you are innocent,
That almost became the sacred.
Has not gnaw anybody,
Has butted nobody.
Cut you twice in a year
To the last ringlet.
And in the five minutes once
The all skin will tear off,
The person was born:
And you crown the skewers,
The person has left the world -
And there was you without a skin.
The door open wide before the kunack -
And the oven breathed by the heat.
The vinegar is mixed with the garlic,
And has begun to smell a shish kebab...
By a heap of a thin fleece
You shiver in the immemorial fear
And during any times
You give the papakha to the courage.
The wineskin is ready to came thin,
That the wine flew, as a small river.
And to you again - kayuk:
Your fat tail is too delicious,
You are innocent and mild,
And consequently be not foolishly
For the villainies in all centuries
The wolf in yours met a skin.
The words is true a harmony
Will not be erased, as a notch.
And at the times all life successively
About a someone speak:
While the Earth spins.
Makhachkala, 'Daguchpedgiz' 1976.
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