Best Kazakh Poems
(The scene from Movie Ulzhan, Drama/German screened at 2007 Festival de Cannes)
( English Style)
I met, Shakuni, in a foreign land
He was a seller of precious words
He travelled a lot and the words he sold.
I met, Shakuni, in a foreign land.
Sold words like “Moksha” an Indian word
Meaning a peaceful death without bad deeds
I met Shakuni, in a foreign land
He was a seller of precious words.
I met Shakuni,in a foreign land
He was a seller of precious words
In words“O.K., Ciao,” not interested
I met Shakuni, in a foreign land.
He liked “saudade”, the Portuguese word
Meaning melancholy, longing andlove
I met Shakuni, in a foreign land
He was a seller of precious words.
I met Shakuni, in a foreign land
He was a seller of precious words
Sold “Dharma” duty and law combined
I met Shakuni, in a foreign land
Sold“Tarof” an Iranian word,
Meaning to refuse something of wishes
I met Shakuni, in a foreign land
He was a seller of precious words
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Honorable Mention
Contest : The Troilet Movie scene of Andrea Dietrich
*Shakuni is a character in the Movie Ulzhan. Une Coproduction Franco-Germano-Kazakh.
*Shakuni is a villainous character in the Hindu Epic Mahabharata. Shakuni, a Sanskrit
word means a cheat, very skilled in playing dice.
PANHANDLING IN ALMATY
Used to think I was street smart till a couple of years ago
Touring in Almaty*, strolling the street, looking western, you know.
Young guy comes up to me and shows me a large bill and asks for small change.
Foreign language….who knew? I got out all my coins and offered to exchange:
He took them all politely. He walked slowly to another tourist and then
Politely did exactly the same thing again.
I’d never seen this con, asking for small change - misleadingly simple ruse -
But not in exchange for his large bill : gambling that tourists he would confuse.
I reckoned his income was greater than mine, maybe 50 000 bucks a year.
Panhandling in Almaty makes a profit big and clear.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
*Almaty is the largest city in Kazakhstan. The city was formerly
called Alma Ata, and it used to be the Kazakh capital.
SNOW LEOPARD II
My name is Asa!
I am a conjured spirit and an evolving
reality in the frigid taiga landscape between
Angaraland to the north and the Kazakh Steppes
to the south! The indigenous people say I am silent,
beautiful and dangerous, and I agree!
I like these people!
The bad men came with their over-size cameras,
their guides and their guns, brought their attitudes
and habits from far-away places where they murder their
neighbors for profit and power. I recognized them all
from an earlier poem
The first one died while he made morning coffee
and fiddled with his combat knife. For a fraction of a second
he thought the wind had changed direction bringing new sounds
and smells, then a slow-motion shower of blood and caffeine
and cooking fire sparks, his friends unaware in the warmth
of their tents
I took the second one at the evening campfire where they
talked tough to each other about my pelt as a trophy on
somebody’s wall! For just a few seconds a cloud hid the moon
and my forty foot leap before the explosion of snow, the fountain
of blood, the screams and the curses, the errant gun shots!
There was no viral video! The ballet of my violence is not for display!
There would be no drunken stories, no photo-shopped legends,
no lies about courage at dinners back home in Phnom Penh, Palermo,
Tegucigalpa or Sinaloa, Chicago or Riyadh!
With a military escort, the bad men left the very next day.
I watched them from a distance. My people now safe:
I hunted. I ate. And I slept!
Asa: From ancient Hebrew meaning “doctor”, “healer”!
Conjure: To summon into being the ancestral spirits!
Their faces are wrinkled, scribbled in lines,
Old men in Parliament still cling to their shrines.
Like sparrows on wires, all gathered and still,
Basking in sunlight, as if time stands still.
Recalling their feasts, and what they have drank,
Like cows, they regurgitate all that they’ve thank.
“If you don’t touch me—I don’t touch you,” with glee,
But resentful of others who dare to agree.
They duck from the cameras, avoiding the glare,
Hiding from each other, lost in despair.
When one makes a break, it’s a scandalous sight,
Struggling to find the door in the night.
Innocent bloodshed stains the ground so vile,
The last hope of mankind extinguished in a while.
In the massacre of yesteryear’s red,
Countless lives vanished, unnumbered, now dead!
Our brave ones were shot, our nation laid bare,
Millions starved, while the tyrants would glare.
What did the red communist give to our kin?
Only disaster, and suffering within!
So many homes crushed beneath the harsh weight,
Echoes of those days still haunt us with fate.
In the massacre led by yesterday's reds,
The Komsomol's violence still lingers and spreads.
Deep in our veins, the bondage has thrived,
My Kazakh land never could have survived.
Those who celebrated the Komsomol’s reign,
Still linger among us, though much has been slain.
Mourn for them!
Celebrate the century, if you must,
But there’s no turning back, there’s no hope or trust.
The people’s curse echoes, as lives fade away,
The Komsomol will not rise again, come what may.
Komsomol - The youth union
Even if I die, my poems will blaze like fire,
Conquering the heart of the Earth entire.
Wise men who once refused to know my name
Will write thick books in my honor and fame.
When the all strength of lies are spent,
Truth seizes them by the collar, intent.
This treacherous world are in endless strife,
Does it ever pause, even for a blink of life?
Oh, my weeping Kazakh, you are in sorrow deep,
Oppression and cruelty their power keep.
Lives are taken, lives are given in the struggle above,
For wealth that offers no one true love!
Cruelty knows no shame or sense of honor,
Avoid it, if you have the strength to conquer.
Though the greedy find the wide world too small,
The earth's grave will have room for all.
May the generations have bright and shining faces,
Let them define their goals and find their places.
May their lives, not just their palaces, shine,
With winters, springs, summers, and autumns divine.
You fixed Mongolian stew
on a two ring Russian-made burner.
We understood
that we’d not be drinking salted milk tea
in Ulan Bator anytime soon.
Nevertheless,
we bought Kazakh embroidery
laid on goatskins, treated the room
as if it were a symbol laden yurt.
Your body was my perfect fit,
a silken deel of sensuality,
which we both knew
was the national costume
of the desolate and lost.
I still didn't get my share from life,
I will not stop fighting until I die.
I will write lot of poem looks like,
Who read remember name of my.
If my ancestors spirit support to me,
From every my poem smell of Kazakh left.
If there is a generation,
That truly love nation,
He will take that letter to the future kept.
A good word is remembered for a long time.
The poem is memorized the same way might.
Someone is grumbled,
Someone is kind,
The future will separate black and white.
Until you enter the bosom of the warm earth,
I made the poem my duty as best way yet.
Mother tongue preserves the whole nation,
Nations without a language
are being completely destroyed.
What profit if you don't understand that?
What profit if do you think yourself then?
No one beat you on the front can't,
If you respect your mother tongue.
You are always precious in your homeland,
You can talk and understand each other.
Let's talk only in the mother tongue!
Otherwise easy to get lost with land of father.
Ukraine, Crimea made me thinking,
We are regret if do not understand this.
My mother tongue today is blinking,
I'm still squealing as a sparrow screech.
Lift your head from the earth, O Kazakh!
Don’t be a laughingstock to foreign lands’ track.
If you don’t stand tall with courage inside,
The pain from your past will never subside!
Don’t be disheartened! You are not meant to be prey,
O proud Kazakh, you’re not lesser in any way!
If you don’t support one another.
Unite and fight,
Wonders of the world, you’ll never see eternal light!
Hold your chest high, like all nations do!
Guard your honor, don’t let it slip through!
In the ocean of life, all are the same,
Remember, you too must flow in the game!
Rise up! If they don’t give you the floor to speak,
Don’t let it slide! If you have pride, never be weak!
Don’t wait for luck to knock on your door,
Take your fate! Don’t let it be a distant shore!
Is there no art, no science in your head?
Is there nothing for the world to be said?
When the globe is on a level field of light,
Will your sun not shine brightly, in sight?
Do you lack the strength to show who you are?
No teeth to show to the world from afar!
Why look back to the days that have passed,
Is your future with you, don't lose it in the cast?
Many wish to oppress the Kazakh pride,
If you don’t lift your head, you’ll still abide.
Stand in line! Open your eyes! Awaken,
O Kazakh!
We have pride and courage, that’s our knack!
I was born here to live might,
I see the interesting power of life.
So love the people with your heart,
Forgiving people will be easy and light.
Don't praise the greedy briber,
Don't give in and support cruelty.
He becomes also a crime rider,
Even supported them not frequently.
Who gives ass, becomes whore in brief,
He does not care about the homeland.
The mother says curses in grief,
Who gave the order to the killer band?
The order to shoot came from the president,
It means you can't rule your own country.
The Kazakh longing for freedom precedent,
Why should one be a slave of a foreign country?
Why is repeated hostile incident?
Why Kazakh can't he express his claim?
When getting rid of one president,
Why does the second one cheat again?
It won't happen!
No, it won't be like this forever!
This government will fall sooner or later!
Many people regret their actions never,
Still crying, regretting, and crying better!
Each one’s a giant, a tale to unfold,
A living treasure, richer than gold.
With hearts so vast, like the steppe they roam,
The boys of our village, as strong as stone.
Their eyes ablaze like springtime skies,
Pride unyielding, they’ll brook no lies.
Though fiery at times, they heed what’s right,
The boys of our village, steadfast in might.
They walk upright, heads held high,
Unbowed by rank, wealth, or lie.
Though passion burns, respect they show,
To elders they honor, wherever they go.
These boys I see in a shining light,
This is the truth, my judgment’s right.
And if you ask, “Where’s this place you call?”
It’s the Kazakh land—that’s our village, that’s all!
Atyrau and Mangystau, two twin lands,
From the start, we’re kin, united we stand.
We’ve endured the heat like a patient steed,
And in the frost, like a black stallion, we lead.
Through heat and cold, we’ve been thoroughly burned,
Like dried meat, we’ve become, hard and turned.
We’re the last of the wolves, survivors we claim,
From many fierce fires, we’ve risen, aflame.
If you ask where we're from, we hail from Zhylyoi,
For our Kazakh, we stand; we can’t help but employ.
Our sacred Kazakhstan, its Constitution so grand,
We won't let it be treated like a mere handkerchief, bland!
They think we’re meek and gentle, this they believe,
But our land we’ll defend, we will not leave.
For our land, we’ll struggle, we’ll fight till we die,
Even if they sweep our skin, we’ll rise and reply.
We tried to be Russian, lost our tongue’s embrace,
Drifted from our roots, living in a foreign place.
We sought to be Arab, but we went astray,
Lost in our faith, we let the truth slip away.
We won't bloom as English, in our dark disguise,
We can never be Chinese with their narrow eyes.
Though you may learn and truly understand,
You’ll never be Ivan; that’s just not your brand.
Even with a hijab, trying to fit in,
You’ll never be Arab; it’s a futile spin.
You can't wake as English or Chinese each morn,
For you were created as a Kazakh, you're born.
Oh, my Kazakh!
You can't be another race,
God made you uniquely, in your rightful place.
With blood flowing strong, feel the pride that it brings,
A nation is noble when a heart truly sings.
A true Kazakh—this is your way,
Love your own people, come what may!
I’ll continue telling your lofty song, there are people here who yearn,
Yearning for the blue lake flown to, did you reach there safe and sound?
The year you left, with your longing deep, my heart was set ablaze,
I came to life, with longing’s song, pouring into my soul always.
Your verses soared above the hills, I read them, sleepless, night through day,
The more I read, the more I grew. I grew in your life, in every way.
Overflowing from the edge, my heart a vast sea,
Turbulent like the waves, it calmed, just like the moments we could see.
I miss it all, I miss it all, my strength is lost, my will is gone,
Like the clouds that pass, I miss the drops that fall from every dawn.
The power of my longing strikes like lightning, bright and fast,
Yearning for the cuckoo’s call, the herald of a summer passed.
In the summer, sweat dripped from my brow, I missed the falling snow,
Then in the winter missed the green fields where the gentle breezes blow.
An unknown feeling, no one understood, it stung, my soul so deep,
Like a mirage, my longings spread, leading me through paths so steep.
I miss even the flames, the red-hot glow, the fire burning bright,
Spinning around, the faces, the girls with flames within their sight.
Oh, life, when I miss you so, my soul can find no rest or place,
Like the gulls above the tossing sea, I wander, lost in endless chase.
I longed for you the gentle breeze, when you from homeland blow,
The scent of wormwood, sweetly teasing, as it swept through fields below.
My relentlessly heart, beat fast, its rhythm steady, strong and clear,
Full of longing, full of longing, through Tolegen’s life, I almost near!
Tolegen* Tolegen Aibergenov is a famous Kazakh poet
Though ice may coat my outward guise,
Inside, my Kazakh flame still flies!
Oh, my people, for your rise,
I was born to seek the skies!
Why must a chosen few divide,
The land’s vast wealth, its rightful pride?
The fight goes on, unyielding and strong,
For every soul here should belong.
From child to elder, none denied,
In this nation's treasures, all have a side.
Gold, copper, gas, and uranium’s glow,
God has blessed this land below!
A noble people, pure of blood,
Once sacred, now tainted by greed’s flood.
The system corrupt, we point in blame,
But we must cleanse hearts to heal the same.
The greedy devour, their hunger obscene,
True equality could only redeem.
Yet those who bring strife, chaos, and shame,
Will bear the curse of the people’s name.
Though death may come, a shroud their due,
They’ll lie in earth, no riches in view.
With my verses, I seek to inspire,
To light the youth with a brighter fire.
Empower the youth, and watch them soar,
Dreams fulfilled, they’ll strive for more.
Proudly they'll call this land their own,
In a future of peace, the Kazakh is known!
Take your earplugs and hear me,
Pay attention, don't look away!
I show a way that will not go astray,
I'll give direction for future way!
Even a fool man can be happy well,
Even the strong man will be hit.
Why are you looking for happiness in hell?
Or are you bored of this life bit!
Isn't this life a gift from God?
Don't be fooled when you're health.
Not appreciating the happiness on his head,
A lot of people are regretting wealth.
The whole universe is became digital,
You will be lucky, when you it learned.
Don't longing for from the paradise at all,
If you are afraid of the test of this world!
The world is changing, getting more difficult,
The feelings of people are dying together.
We need to learn the digital Internet,
It's never too late to learning either!
I am suffering for you all composed,
My outside is ice, but I am hot inside.
I don't know when it will be released,
My longing of thousand-year-old life!
Still hoping for our mind we,
Everyone has passed away like us.
The crowd of Kazakh left behind me,
They are still seeking for me after death!
Look for me, if you can't stop the longing,
Look for me if you can't escape from sadness.
If you want to burn I will give you a flame,
I will give you energy if you are sickness!
If you are sickness, I will be care,
With my poem, I give breath toward.
I lived for poetry almost fifty year,
Let my poem live for me forward!