About Motherland By Rasul Gamzatov Poem by Yuri Starostin

About Motherland By Rasul Gamzatov

About motherland

I could not to understand, but now I do -
And to me any translation is need not,
About what, flying out, an autumn flock
So bitter crying,
So sadly sings.

Earlier it seems to me: a sadness have a no reason
At the leaves lying in the dust of the roads.
There about the native branch their sorrow and grieve -
Now I understand,
And previously I couldn't do it.

I did not know, did not know, but understood over the years,
Already with the quite grey- white head,
What about the hewed out stone from the rock
So moaning and crying
As it is alive.

When afar from the birth edge
The fate or the road took you away
And joy is sad, now I understand -
And the song is bitter,
And love is not light,
Oh the motherland...


Under the thunder of your bells
I praise your name.
And there is no a sweeter words,
And there is no a sound loved.

And if my fall song do silent
In the night or at the dawn -
So, this mean I died
And I am not in the world.

I like an eagle soar in the spring
Over yours heavies.
And those wings behind is
Your Holy name.

But if suddenly them break
An evil dark wind do
You don't look for me alive
Then on the white light.

I am your dagger. I was in a fight
Am rebellious, disobedient.
I'll stand for yours honor,
If a day become a black.

And if I do not in the ranks of your fighters
In the mournful hour stand -
So mean, I am no alive,
Vanished I am, was perished, disappeared.

I am going on a stranger land
Hear a foreign speech
And more unpatienсer I wait
A moment of our meeting.

And a vew of your eyes
Is no joy, no bright -
So then I will not be live
Already in the world.


What about is this song of a wagon wheel,
And a birds chirping,
And the rustle of a birches?
About the motherland, only about a motherland.

What about, afloat,
A sad is a clouds?
What about is a ships leaving melancholy?
About the motherland, only about a motherland.

In the days of a bitter sorrows and serious adversity
Who will rescue us?
Who can help? Save?
A motherland. Only a motherland.

In a moments of luck,
In the hours of celebration
What about are our thoughts and our words?
About the motherland, only about a motherland.

Who is connected and by a happiness with you, and by a trouble
There is for him and in the darkness
You shine by a star
Oh motherland! ..

Rasul Gamzatov. Last price.
Moscow: Contemporary,1979.

Saturday, December 7, 2013
Topic(s) of this poem: mother land
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