The carts
Some carts
Tags barely along
By the mountain way.
Other carts
Downhill rushes
Easy and promptly.
Youth,
The running of your hot horses
Is beautiful and free.
Pulling the whole world
You go on the
A wonder-cart.
Some carts
Crawling on the road
From afar...
An old crooked stick,
A staff miserable
Yoked in its...
Your horse is slap
At the clouds,
Youth, rushes.
The clatter of his
Fast shoes
Knocks in the heart.
Who will answer to me,
What is the cargo there
On the dusty carts?
A memories,
An old sadness,
A long years.
Youth,
What is on yours cart
I am know yet:
Only the love
And the faith in the people,
And the joy of the earth.
Rasul Gamzatov. Last price.
Moscow: Contemporary,1979.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poem really gives clear picture of nice story. Amazing and wonderful one.