The Head Of Hadzhi-Murat Rasul Gamzatov Poem by Yuri Starostin

The head of Hadzhi-Murat
I see the head chopped off
And I hear the fight roars,
And the blood flows on a naked stone
Through the unpacific auls.

And the sabres,
That sharped about the rocks,
Fly up, seeing the kinds.
To Caucasus the true myurids
And skips along the abrupt roadside.

I have asked the bloody head:
- Whose you were, tell on a favour?
And as,
The topped by the glory,
In the another's hands have you?

And I hear suddenly:
- To hide to me there is nothing,
I am the head of Hadzhi-Murat,
And consequently has rolled down from him shoulders,
That I have lost the way at once.

The road has selected not the best,
The fault to all is my customs of the vanity...
I look at the stray head,
That in the unequal fight it is cut down.

By the footpaths, through a distance proerased,
In the mountains the born men,
We should live or dead
To come back to the tops.

J.Kozlovskogo's lane

The Soviet poetry. In 2 volumes.
Library of the world literature. A series the third.
Editors A.Krakovskaja, J.Rozenbljum.
Moscow: Fiction,1977