Zarema By Rasul Gamzatov Poem by Yuri Starostin

Zarema
LET'S GET ACQUAINTED

On a sunny morning at the dawn,
My voice flows from the window.
Who I am?
«One girl,
And call me Zarema! »


I was born in a first-est,
Ring month of a spring,
To its melodious streamlets
The streets were right.


And no a children to would met up -
A sunny serene day was,
Bleu a high dome was,
Slide the cloud to side about.


A seemed is my cry by an echo
A drops falling in the snow.
Never a man with a funny laughter
Does not born.


And, when for the first time to a mom
I appeared in the light of the day
By a spring eyes
My mother meet me.


And in her eyes a teardrops
Were full of a joy,
Like a first rain-drops
Of a started spring.


An unknown, a stranger to me
For a squares of a glass was
A snow,
Sunny,
Huge
World in which I entered.


I was born among a trails,
On the border of all roads,
There, where, a noble, side by side
Stood the West and the East,


Over the salty wave
At the Caucasian mountain ridge
Where a height was a brother
with the deep sea,


Where the moon is easy by a hand
To scoop up on the bottom of the stream.
And a mountain girl became
From the day of birth I am.