Selected Poetry / Избранное (англ.). Gabdullah Tukai
for a long winter journey.
When she was taking me to uncle Badri in the hotel, she wanted to give me as a keepsake a string of prayer beads and decorations for my skullcap called «Maryam-Ana»12, but I refused to take them for some reason, saying: «You don’t have to do that. I don’t need anything. I’m going to a rich house.»
Our hotel room was quite average, neither good nor bad.
The man from Yaik who was going to take me there was called Shest-pyat Sapyi. He hadn’t arrived to Kazan yet, which is why uncle Badri and I had to wait for him for a week or two.
Finally, our long-awaited Shest-pyat Sapyi arrived and got himself a hotel room right across from ours.
A few days after that, uncle Badri moved my things to his room and, handing me six coins two kopecks each, 12 kopecks all together, left for his home in the village.
Hard as I tried to plead with him so he would stay for at least one more day – that’s how much I hated to part with him – he left anyway, comforting me with different kind words.
After his departure I remained with Shest-pyat Sapyi and his wife.
Both the clothes and speech habits of this man, who came from another city, seemed alien to me.
For example, in the middle of a conversation he would suddenly say: «I am a man advanced in years.» For the life of me, I couldn’t understand the meaning of the word «advanced».
Shest-pyat Sapyi wore a fur coat, and its collar and sleeves were trimmed with fox fur. I thought that perhaps he was «advanced» because he was wearing such a fur coat. Later, already in Yaik, I learned that «advanced in years» meant «old».
With the 12 kopecks from uncle Badri I bought myself salt-dried Caspian roach and sunflower seeds.
A few days after that, we packed for the road.
They made me sit on the lap of Shest-pyat Sapyi’s wife in the sleigh covered in matting, so that I couldn’t look around in any direction. They would let me out only when we stopped at a village to have some tea.
I begged them: «Let me walk by the sleigh. It’s better that way – at least I’d be free.» I was not allowed. «You’ll freeze to death. Your uncle told us to look after you so you wouldn’t freeze», they said.
My uncle instructed that guy, Shest-pyat Sapyi, to bring a good sledge from Kazan, and it was attached to our rear. In front of us was the sleigh of some other folk from Yaik, loaded with various merchandise, so we travelled in a «caravan». For this reason, feeling as if we were prisoners in the enclosed sleigh, suffering a thousand different inconveniences, we finally drove into Yaik in the evening of the eighteenth day of our journey.
In Yaik we stopped at uncle Sapyi’s. «We’ll have some tea first, and take you to your uncle and aunt later», – they said.
Later that evening, between the two prayers, I went to my uncle and aunt, accompanied by uncle Sapyi.
We met a young woman in a green quilted gown on the road. «This is your aunt, say hello to her», – Shest-pyat Sapyi told me, so I greeted her.
Their house was only about sixty feet away. I entered the gates, climbed up a very high set of stairs and stepped onto the second floor…
AUTUMN
Look around, my friends, autumn is here,
And winter in its white cloak is already near.
The birds are moving southward, flying far away,
They have a better place where it is safe to stay.
The forest dyed in yellow, soon all its leaves are gone,
The harvesters have gathered their grain and corn.
Naked seem the fields, bald like a Tatar’s head,
The lark dives from the sky, hunting for his bread.
Small pockets of grass retain the gleam of silk,
The sun is getting tired – its rays are growing weak.
Darkness ousts the light. It makes me so sad.
The wind is cold and nasty, spins around my head.
Autumn is depressing, as everyone agrees,
Flowers lose their bloom, leafless stand the trees.
A forsaken graveyard is brighter than this field,
Without the summer grass, gone is its glossy shield.
Six months of heavy slumber… So I can shut my eyes,
Oblivious completely to those gloomy skies.
Nothing will awake me, neither heavy wind nor rain,
I will awaken only when spring comes back again.
The carpet of young grass will tempt me to lie down.
Happy I will be like the shah showing off his crown.
I wonder why my people aren’t happy in their land.
So let the day take over, and night come to an end.
Will I ever see this happen while I’m still alive?
Just a dream it is, alas, first I have to die.
EPITAPH TO MY BELOVED
I feel your heartbeat in my soul; you never died,
Your warmth and grace the two of us have tied,
And if you die, death is my only choice,
But while I breathe, I’ll hear your gentle voice.
You’re in my mind, yes, you are in my heart,
Not even death can break us two apart.
My love for you will never be surpassed,
And memories of it until my deathbed last.
TO MY NATION
You occupy my thoughts both day and night,
Your health is mine; your plight, it is my plight.
For me more sacred than anything on earth,
Nothing could compare with my nation’s worth.
With boundless joy to you I will belong,
To you I’ll consecrate my poet’s song.
I don’t know why these words should ring so true,
I yearn to be the people’s poet, borne of you.
The nation’s dream above all dreams must soar
In my own mind, it maddens and it roars…
Oh Tengri, I will be her poet… loyal, whole –
That is the greatest aspiration of my soul!
Oh heavens, take my life, not my renown.
To be forgotten? Better yet to drown.
I will die; let forever live the glory of my name,
All my deeds and struggles will bring me eternal fame.
For when I die, death will not steal my name,
My deeds and efforts should enjoy eternal fame.
To be remembered by my people is my goal
I’ve written of my love, befriend me in your soul!
TO A HOURI
In heaven, if I chance upon your face
In it, I’ll see my own reflection’s trace.
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Текст предоставлен
««Mother Maryam»» – necklace made out of small beads and shells used as an amulet to protect children against the ««evil eye»».