Translated by N. Grebnev
Know, my friend, the price of enmity and friendship
And do not sin in a hasty judgment.
Anger at a friend, maybe instant,
Do not rush to pour out.Maybe your friend hurried himself
And I offended you by chance
A friend was guilty and obeyed -
Do not remember him a sin.People, we age and decay
And over the course of our years and days
It's easier for us to lose our friends
We find them much more difficult.If a faithful horse, injuring his leg,
Suddenly I stumbled, and then again,
Don't blame him - blame the road
And do not rush to change the horse.People, I ask you, for God's sake,
Do not be shy about your kindness.
There aren't many friends on earth
Be careful not to lose friends.I followed the rules of others
Seeing evil in weakness.
How many friends have I left in my life
How many friends have left me.After there was a lot of things,
And it used to be on steep paths
How I repented, how I lacked
To me my lost friends!And now I yearn to see you all,
Who once loved me
I have not forgiven once
Or who have not forgiven me.
About friendship
Translated by J. Kozlovsky
You are happy that many years
You live calmly, without arguing with the storms,
You don't know your friends, that is, never
You don't share your joy and sorrow with anyone.But even if you have lived for a hundred years
And the head, like wisdom, turned gray,
I say boldly to you in public
That you were not born yet.
"I told the peasant about the Kremlin ..."
Translation by V. Soloukhin
I told the peasant about the Kremlin,
Palaces and halls - I have described everything.
My countryman puzzled me:
- Do you have a kunak in the Kremlin?
Three mountain toasts
Translated by J. Kozlovsky
Having filled the mugs, we will not philosophize
And the first toast is this:
“May it be good for good people
And according to merit it is bad - all bad! "We'll pour another and remember the saying,
Worthy of the boiling rivers:
“Keep childhood short,
like a moment
And let youth last a whole century! "And for the third time, let's push the circles together.
“Friend of honor, drink to the bottom! Not half!
Let the sad news pass us by
And the sons will survive. Amen!"
If you are a kunak
Translated by J. Kozlovsky
If you are a kunak, then my threshold
Waiting for you, blowing off the clouds.
If you are exhausted from thirst,
My river is your riverEven if it's black outside
Meet me myself, just give me a sign.
Here's my bread, here's my roses, here's my wine
Everything I am rich in is yours, kunak.It's cold - sit closer to the hearth
I'll light the dung better.
Hungry - do not complain, I will help:
I will share the field with you, kunak.If you melt like a candle
Cursing a wound or a disease,
I will have time to bring a doctor
My blood will be yours, friend.If it's scary - take my dagger
And carry it hanging on your side.
If you, kunak, are longing,
Let's dispel melancholy together.The horse fell - here is mine under the saddle,
Race, ride and the gloomiest day
Stay faithful kunak
Whether I am on horseback or under a horse.
"An insidious friend hastens for friendship, a full horn ..."
Translated by J. Moritz
An insidious friend hurries for friendship, a full horn
Give me back the wineskin filled with slander.
And the author of these lines for the tenderness sip
Often I received only a stream of envy.I won't say a word about your wickedness,
Since I can't find words for her, -
Wasted all words, mercilessly execution
Yourself for being angry at me!And I'm not surprised that those close to you for show
You flaunted your pride more than once, -
Who is pompous in a friendly circle,
chest in an arc,
That instantly for strangers will bend like a poker!There is one riddle: how fierce anger the heat
Have you kept it in an icy soul for so long?
How could you, hypocrite, hide for so many days
Preparing me a blow deeper, hurt?But know that my lot does not freeze me, -
After all, the Gorsky poet is alive and is now famous,
Although long ago he was killed in the back by a scoundrel,
Who was cowardly with him to come face to face!
Request
Translated by N. Grebnev
My wife, I don't have many requests,
But do this, for God's sake.I ask: appreciate my friends of yesterday,
All those to whom I was once dear
Which have long been, even before ours
Years with you,
I loved and appreciated.Love the people with whom in the beginning
I walked a gentle and steep path,
Whoever my friends are now
They are a part of the life lived.May you find their habits strange
Do not convict them of any fault,
All the little sins and flaws
Forgive them, as you forgive me.Hurry to meet your friends, dear.
Open the door for them and don't measure them with your eyes.
Consider this youthfulness
Suddenly she knocked on our door.Long ago, death separated us from others,
Long ago life divorced us with others,
And those only call sadly on business
And they disappear, having solved the case.There are fewer of us every year.
O wives of all my old friends!
You can bear with me if you have to,
In the name of my dear husbands.
"The shadow in the snow darkens for a long time ..."
Translated by J. Kozlovsky
The shadow in the snow darkens for a long time.
"That your head is drooping,
Before the red embers of the fireplace
The old man who remembered the past?Human rumor is not biased,
And I heard near the graves,
That your friend was in trouble once
But you didn't protect your friend.Today, as white as a conscience,
Smoothing his beard, old man,
Remember the fateful story
Fall of your own moment ”.“I was then seized with fear,
For what in the declining years, believe me,
Before sons and Allah
I repent now. ""Old man, you lived to see sunset,
And he appreciates the confession of the aul.
Tell me, is it true that once
Did you deceive a friend in the mountains?Fighting with myself more and more often,
Answer that you used to feel
When you're white as a conscience
Stroking your beard again, old man? ""The visions of the past rise,
And I feel between my sons
Agonizing remorse
I have a sinful conscience. ""No, you are not everything, old man, told,
They talk even in the distance
That you once betrayed a friend
Swearing falsely on the blade.And, worrying about the soul,
What a thought,
When you're white as a conscience
Are you stroking your beard with your hand again? "“For a long time I have been toiling myself with a black thought,
Years cannot be turned back.
And at least I will repent more than once,
I will be scared to die. "
"There was a grudge in childhood ..."
Translation by E. Nikolaevskaya
There was an insult in childhood - a lump in my throat!
When an unfamiliar boy lied to me ...
I forgot about that when my friend is exemplary
I was led down the wrong path.
I forgot about that on that black day,
When the act has done shameful
My relative - for a fair price
Lost honor, decided on treason
And, leaning on other people's shoulders,
Arrogantly repeated other people's speeches ...
Something for him! .. They trumpeted his praise ...
And it was as if they had cut off my head.
"When friends pass by the side ..."
Translation by E. Nikolaevskaya
When friends pass by
Strangers become closer ...
In the morning my relatives sat with me,
And in the evening I see others nearby.Abandoned, where did you come from
To me, suddenly abandoned by friends?
We were frivolous as long as
Didn't bump their heads on the roof.At least three times we fell into traps,
Who put them - we don't know for sure.
I will not broadcast about blood closeness,
It was not strong with a cart.Only the heart is true -
without doubt -
And everyone immediately believes the word,
Though it bleeds from wounds
Those that fate inflicts on him again ...
"In the mountains of the Dagestan horsemen, it used to be ..."
Translated by N. Grebnev
In the mountains of the Dagestan horsemen, it happened
To strengthen men's friendship stronger,
They gave each other blades and daggers,
Both the best cloaks and the best horses.And I, as a testimony of sincere friendship,
I send you my songs, friends,
They are my dear weapon too
And my horse, and my best cloak.
Raising the Avar horn
Translated by E. Nikolaevskaya and I. Snegova
Let's get off our horses! ..
Sparkles by the road
Stream,
Behind us is a wall of snowy mountains ...
Let it be reflected in our full horn
Horseshoe golden moon.Let's drink by the hand - the one that lifts the horn,
For lips burnt with wine
For the sky above the earth, for our land,
Beautiful in the silence of the night.For the two of us: let it be with us in life
Everything is exactly the way we want it!
Pour another one, let it be for dear people
All that we wish them will come.
Let the flame be kindled for the third time of wine -
Today we command destiny:
Let it be done with our enemies
All that we will send them with you!And - on horses! We whip three times with a whip,
Let's leave the rocky shores ...
We will meet the morning, friend, at the pass,
Pitying those who, having lived a century in the world,
Didn't deserve either friend or foe.
Oh my friends!
Translation by E. Nikolaevskaya
Oh my friends, my friends! ..
Do you feel where the wind is blowing from?
Is happy or indignant -
Blowing, approving or threatening?Oh my friends, my friends!
On dangerous, steep heights
About your unexpected turns
I learn from the songs of the wind.Oh my friends, my friends!
Look how the river flies into the gorge -
In those fish that carry the current
I recognize other acquaintances.Times have changed ... So what?
How many of them are there now, pray tell,
All sorts of heroes have appeared!
You probably won't count them on the fly!Many of them who felt the power
Those that are cowardly rude in impudence
A predator who has lost his teeth -
The hands of the lion are bravely thrust into the mouth.And so it happens:
No ammo, no questions asked.
And almost everyone here is Sailors,
Only the machine gun stalled for a long time ...Oh friends! Under the breadth of heaven
How many sparrows are there among us poets ...
Where are the eagles striving for light
Crossing the wind ?!Know that valuable fish swims
Not in the flow, but fighting the flow!
I repeat this with a meaning:
Whoever is understanding, I think, will understand.Well, those who are captivated by power
Who aspires to power on the sly,
Remember, the lion still has paws:
Is it worth it - hands in the mouth ?!
"Believe me, the first mistake is not terrible ..."
Translation by L. Dymova
Believe me, the first mistake is not scary,
And the first offense is not important
And the very first fear is akin to fright.
And if it suddenly happened in your fate,
That the first time a friend offended you -
Do not judge, try to understand your friend.Probably not to be found in the world
People who have never lost their way
Hearts never shrouded in fog.
And if your friend is in trouble:
Said the wrong thing, the wrong one, and the wrong time -
Do not consider his mistake a deception.Friends, what a stupid blunder my swearing,
Once they gave up on me, -
My house is always open for you. Come in!
Everyone who laughed and saddened with me
I love as before. I have forgiven you all.
But just me, friends, forgive me.
Older
Translation by E. Nikolaevskaya
The tables are set
And there are plenty of guests.
What are we waiting for?
All gathered for a long time ...
We don't sit at the table -
Why?
We are waiting for the elder
All honor to him!Always in the mountains
He was considered the eldest
Who is more rivers
For life will cross
Who are many
Paths-roads will pass
That senior
And he is always honored!And who is the senior? ..
Long ago
By a single measure
Always measured:
The elder was the one
Who has seen more stars!
Now - the eldest one
Whose post is above ...My friend has me
I ask for your assistance.
And he answered:
"I'll ask the elder ..."
Not at the one
Who is older by years! ..
(And for others
I won't give a dime!)To solve the case
At home in the morning ...
And so - everything was sprayed
In the wind:
Over the elder -
There is a senior,
Above that - another ...
I am for advice from a friend -
Not a foot!He was the eldest
In the old days
Who have wise thoughts
I sowed seeds.
Glorious for his courage
And skill -
Not by connections, not by rank,
Not by kinship.Now he is older
Whose rank is greater!
But in this, right,
No reason yet
To him in everything
Serve meekly ...
To be considered senior -
We must earn it!
Visiting Marshak
Translated by J. Kozlovsky
The house is warm and simple in appearance,
You will be a welcome guest here
But just know that in a bull's horn
They won't bring you wine.Take a sip of coffee - a gift from the East,
That is as black as a furrow.
And it will rise high above the table
Conversations are a quiet star.Rosinka is a related word
Can accommodate both the sun and the snow
And it will blow on you again
The warmth of the home.And the valley will fall at your feet
Green herbs and yellow herbs.
And all that time has separated
She will swim in without losing her face.The owner is not hazy in speech.
Will open, respecting the dignity,
He's a book like a Muslim
Before the prayer the Koran.And, the contemporary is not tired,
Shakespeare will put it hot
Your palm for old friendship
On his left shoulder.And it will enter again, moving the years apart,
Like a burka, throwing off a blanket at the door,
Dashing Scotsman, friend of freedom,
Whose heart is like mine is in the mountains.You are also a boy, no doubt
Though your head is gray
And gives thoughts to thoughts
Conversations are a quiet star.You feel embarrassed.
What have you done? What did you write?
Saddled half-blood
Did you take a mountain pass?And if you were at the pass,
Has he touched the sky at a gallop?
Dreamed vainly not yesterday
Do you read poems to Marshak?But now you sit before him and stricter
You evaluate this step
Guilty thinking: “Oh my God,
Has Marshak really read me? "And his eyes are not stern
And as if looking through the years ...
In sorrow, in joy, in anxiety
Shine on me, good star.
Mustai Karim
Translated by J. Kozlovsky
It was covered with snow again
Or maybe the well-worn ones
On white-maned horses in the distance
Murids are flying out from behind the mountains.Taking off my hat on the doorstep,
I shook off the gray hair of bad weather.
And the snow swirls outside the window
Like years, Mustai, like years.The calendars melted quickly.
And even though we didn't change for fashion,
What are you, my dear, do not say
These years have changed us too.We made mistakes with you more than once,
Hurt, drunk and tough,
And they did not hide their eyes,
Where cruel tears stoodI remember: there is only one stone in the heart
We wore while apart
Kuliev Kaisyn was with the Caucasus,
Survived by the silence of torment.Flip through the memory book
Throw open the gate before the past.
You and I have grown up, Mustai,
And we will not be as small as someone else.To our wild, gray heads
The retinue is devoted to bold thoughts,
We sit confidently in the saddles,
Horses falling under the hooves.We fan the fire in the snow
We shun cautious hearts
And not every dispute is thrown into:
Too many of them are empty.I don't have enough time to admire myself
The road calls and hurries us.
Not about fame - about a word, my friend,
We will take care of you tenderly and strictly.Worshiping love and intelligence
The time of the high fret breathes.
We ourselves know what and what,
And there is no need to lead us by the handle.The earth is bound with cold
Then its spring waters seethe.
Our best teachers are
These are years, Mustai, these are years.Writes to us from the hospital in a letter
The pain subsiding under the bandages
A sinner repentant in prison
Confessed before us.The plowman and the sower write to us.
You can't get away from a direct answer.
Years rush to match the horses
Saddled their conscience of the poet.Soon the songs of returning packs
They will ring over the awakened thicket.
It's good that you are near, Mustai,
Loyal friend and real poet!
Embed code for a website or blog (HTML)
Take care of your friends. Gamzatov R. G.
Know, my friend, the price of enmity and friendship
And do not sin in a hasty judgment.
Anger at a friend, maybe instant,
Do not rush to pour out.
Maybe your friend hurried himself
And I offended you by chance.
A friend was guilty and obeyed -
Do not remember him a sin.
People, we age and decay
And over the course of our years and days
It's easier for us to lose our friends
We find them much more difficult.
If a faithful horse, injuring his leg,
Suddenly stumbled, and then again,
Don't blame him - blame the road
And do not rush to change the horse.
People, I ask you, for God's sake,
Do not be shy about your kindness.
There are not so many friends on earth:
Be careful not to lose friends.
I followed the rules of others
Seeing evil in weakness.
How many friends have I left in my life,
How many friends have left me.
After that there was a lot of things.
And it used to be on steep paths
How I repented, how I lacked
To me my lost friends!
And now I yearn to see you all,
Who once loved me
I have not forgiven once
Or who have not forgiven me.
Http://liricon.ru/beregite-druzej.html
Rasul Gamzatovich Gamzatov (Avar. Rasul XIamzatov; September 8, 1923 - November 3, 2003) - an outstanding Soviet Avar and Russian poet, publicist and political figure. People's poet of the Dagestan ASSR (1959). Hero of Socialist Labor (1974). Laureate of the Lenin (1963) and Stalin Prizes of the third degree (1952). Member of the CPSU (b) since 1944.
Rasul Gamzatov was born on September 8, 1923 in the Tsada village of the Khunzakh region of Dagestan in the family of Gamzat Tsadasa (1877-1951), the people's poet of Dagestan. He studied at the Araninsk secondary school. He graduated from the Avar Pedagogical College in 1939. Until 1941 he worked as a school teacher, then as an assistant director in the theater, as a journalist in newspapers and on the radio. From 1945 to 1950 he studied at the Literary Institute. A. M. Gorky in Moscow. Elected deputy of the Supreme Council of the Dagestan ASSR, Deputy Chairman of the Supreme Council of the Dagestan ASSR, deputy and member of the Presidium of the USSR Supreme Council. For several decades he was a delegate to the writers 'congresses of Dagestan, the RSFSR and the USSR, a member of the Writers' Solidarity Bureau of Asian and African countries, a member of the Committee on the Lenin and State Prizes of the USSR, a member of the board of the Soviet Peace Committee, Deputy Chairman of the Soviet Committee of Solidarity of the Peoples of Asia and Africa.
Member of the USSR Armed Forces of the 6-8th convocations since 1962. In 1962-1966 and since 1971 he was a member of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR. Member of the Petrovskaya Academy of Sciences and Arts.
He died on November 3, 2003 at the Central Clinical Hospital in Moscow. He was buried in the old Muslim cemetery in Tarki at the foot of the Tarki-Tau mountain, next to his wife's grave.
Http://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rasul_Gamzatov_
Translated by N. Grebnev
Know, my friend, the price of enmity and friendship
And do not sin in a hasty judgment.
Anger at a friend, maybe instant,
Do not rush to pour out.Maybe your friend hurried himself
And I offended you by chance
A friend was guilty and obeyed -
Do not remember him a sin.People, we age and decay
And over the course of our years and days
It's easier for us to lose our friends
We find them much more difficult.If a faithful horse, injuring his leg,
Suddenly I stumbled, and then again,
Don't blame him - blame the road
And do not rush to change the horse.People, I ask you, for God's sake,
Do not be shy about your kindness.
There aren't many friends on earth
Be careful not to lose friends.I followed the rules of others
Seeing evil in weakness.
How many friends have I left in my life
How many friends have left me.After there was a lot of things,
And it used to be on steep paths
How I repented, how I lacked
To me my lost friends!And now I yearn to see you all,
Who once loved me
I have not forgiven once
Or who have not forgiven me.
About friendship
Translated by J. Kozlovsky
You are happy that many years
You live calmly, without arguing with the storms,
You don't know your friends, that is, never
You don't share your joy and sorrow with anyone.But even if you have lived for a hundred years
And the head, like wisdom, turned gray,
I say boldly to you in public
That you were not born yet.
"I told the peasant about the Kremlin ..."
Translation by V. Soloukhin
I told the peasant about the Kremlin,
Palaces and halls - I have described everything.
My countryman puzzled me:
- Do you have a kunak in the Kremlin?
Three mountain toasts
Translated by J. Kozlovsky
Having filled the mugs, we will not philosophize
And the first toast is this:
“May it be good for good people
And according to merit it is bad - all bad! "We'll pour another and remember the saying,
Worthy of the boiling rivers:
“Keep childhood short,
like a moment
And let youth last a whole century! "And for the third time, let's push the circles together.
“Friend of honor, drink to the bottom! Not half!
Let the sad news pass us by
And the sons will survive. Amen!"
If you are a kunak
Translated by J. Kozlovsky
If you are a kunak, then my threshold
Waiting for you, blowing off the clouds.
If you are exhausted from thirst,
My river is your riverEven if it's black outside
Meet me myself, just give me a sign.
Here's my bread, here's my roses, here's my wine
Everything I am rich in is yours, kunak.It's cold - sit closer to the hearth
I'll light the dung better.
Hungry - do not complain, I will help:
I will share the field with you, kunak.If you melt like a candle
Cursing a wound or a disease,
I will have time to bring a doctor
My blood will be yours, friend.If it's scary - take my dagger
And carry it hanging on your side.
If you, kunak, are longing,
Let's dispel melancholy together.The horse fell - here is mine under the saddle,
Race, ride and the gloomiest day
Stay faithful kunak
Whether I am on horseback or under a horse.
"An insidious friend hastens for friendship, a full horn ..."
Translation by Yu.
An insidious friend hurries for friendship, a full horn
Give me back the wineskin filled with slander.
And the author of these lines for the tenderness sip
Often I received only a stream of envy.I won't say a word about your wickedness,
Since I can't find words for her, -
Wasted all words, mercilessly execution
Yourself for being angry at me!And I'm not surprised that those close to you for show
You flaunted your pride more than once, -
Who is pompous in a friendly circle,
chest in an arc,
That instantly for strangers will bend like a poker!There is one riddle: how fierce anger the heat
Have you kept it in an icy soul for so long?
How could you, hypocrite, hide for so many days
Preparing me a blow deeper, hurt?But know that my lot does not freeze me, -
After all, the Gorsky poet is alive and is now famous,
Although long ago he was killed in the back by a scoundrel,
Who was cowardly with him to come face to face!
Request
Translated by N. Grebnev
My wife, I don't have many requests,
But do this, for God's sake.I ask: appreciate my friends of yesterday,
All those to whom I was once dear
Which have long been, even before ours
Years with you,
I loved and appreciated.Love the people with whom in the beginning
I walked a gentle and steep path,
Whoever my friends are now
They are a part of the life lived.May you find their habits strange
Do not convict them of any fault,
All the little sins and flaws
Forgive them, as you forgive me.Hurry to meet your friends, dear.
Open the door for them and don't measure them with your eyes.
Consider this youthfulness
Suddenly she knocked on our door.Long ago, death separated us from others,
Long ago life divorced us with others,
And those only call sadly on business
And they disappear, having solved the case.There are fewer of us every year.
O wives of all my old friends!
You can bear with me if you have to,
In the name of my dear husbands.
"The shadow in the snow darkens for a long time ..."
Translated by J. Kozlovsky
The shadow in the snow darkens for a long time.
"That your head is drooping,
Before the red embers of the fireplace
The old man who remembered the past?Human rumor is not biased,
And I heard near the graves,
That your friend was in trouble once
But you didn't protect your friend.Today, as white as a conscience,
Smoothing his beard, old man,
Remember the fateful story
Fall of your own moment ”.“I was then seized with fear,
For what in the declining years, believe me,
Before sons and Allah
I repent now. ""Old man, you lived to see sunset,
And he appreciates the confession of the aul.
Tell me, is it true that once
Did you deceive a friend in the mountains?Fighting with myself more and more often,
Answer that you used to feel
When you're white as a conscience
Stroking your beard again, old man? ""The visions of the past rise,
And I feel between my sons
Agonizing remorse
I have a sinful conscience. ""No, you are not everything, old man, told,
They talk even in the distance
That you once betrayed a friend
Swearing falsely on the blade.And, worrying about the soul,
What a thought,
When you're white as a conscience
Are you stroking your beard with your hand again? "“For a long time I have been toiling myself with a black thought,
Years cannot be turned back.
And at least I will repent more than once,
I will be scared to die. "
"There was a grudge in childhood ..."
Translation by E. Nikolaevskaya
There was an insult in childhood - a lump in my throat!
When an unfamiliar boy lied to me ...
I forgot about that when my friend is exemplary
I was led down the wrong path.
I forgot about that on that black day,
When the act has done shameful
My relative - for a fair price
Lost honor, decided on treason
And, leaning on other people's shoulders,
Arrogantly repeated other people's speeches ...
Something for him! .. They trumpeted his praise ...
And it was as if they had cut off my head.
"When friends pass by the side ..."
Translation by E. Nikolaevskaya
When friends pass by
Strangers become closer ...
In the morning my relatives sat with me,
And in the evening I see others nearby.Abandoned, where did you come from
To me, suddenly abandoned by friends?
We were frivolous as long as
Didn't bump their heads on the roof.At least three times we fell into traps,
Who put them - we don't know for sure.
I will not broadcast about blood closeness,
It was not strong with a cart.Only the heart is true -
without doubt -
And everyone immediately believes the word,
Though it bleeds from wounds
Those that fate inflicts on him again ...
"In the mountains of the Dagestan horsemen, it used to be ..."
Translated by N. Grebnev
In the mountains of the Dagestan horsemen, it happened
To strengthen men's friendship stronger,
They gave each other blades and daggers,
Both the best cloaks and the best horses.And I, as a testimony of sincere friendship,
I send you my songs, friends,
They are my dear weapon too
And my horse, and my best cloak.
Raising the Avar horn
Let's get off our horses! ..
Sparkles by the road
Stream,
Behind us is a wall of snowy mountains ...
Let it be reflected in our full horn
Horseshoe golden moon.Let's drink by the hand - the one that lifts the horn,
For lips burnt with wine
For the sky above the earth, for our land,
Beautiful in the silence of the night.For the two of us: let it be with us in life
Everything is exactly the way we want it!
Pour another one, let it be for dear people
All that we wish them will come.
Let the flame be kindled for the third time of wine -
Today we command destiny:
Let it be done with our enemies
All that we will send them with you!And - on horses! We whip three times with a whip,
Let's leave the rocky shores ...
We will meet the morning, friend, at the pass,
Pitying those who, having lived a century in the world,
Didn't deserve either friend or foe.
Oh my friends!
Translation by E. Nikolaevskaya
Oh my friends, my friends! ..
Do you feel where the wind is blowing from?
Is happy or indignant -
Blowing, approving or threatening?Oh my friends, my friends!
On dangerous, steep heights
About your unexpected turns
I learn from the songs of the wind.Oh my friends, my friends!
Look how the river flies into the gorge -
In those fish that carry the current
I recognize other acquaintances.Times have changed ... So what?
How many of them are there now, pray tell,
All sorts of heroes have appeared!
You probably won't count them on the fly!Many of them who felt the power
Those that are cowardly rude in impudence
A predator who has lost his teeth -
The hands of the lion are bravely thrust into the mouth.And so it happens:
No ammo, no questions asked.
And almost everyone here is Sailors,
Only the machine gun stalled for a long time ...Oh friends! Under the breadth of heaven
How many sparrows are there among us poets ...
Where are the eagles striving for light
Crossing the wind ?!Know that valuable fish swims
Not in the flow, but fighting the flow!
I repeat this with a meaning:
Whoever is understanding, I think, will understand.Well, those who are captivated by power
Who aspires to power on the sly,
Remember, the lion still has paws:
Is it worth it - hands in the mouth ?!
"Believe me, the first mistake is not terrible ..."
Translation by L. Dymova
Believe me, the first mistake is not scary,
And the first offense is not important
And the very first fear is akin to fright.
And if it suddenly happened in your fate,
That the first time a friend offended you -
Do not judge, try to understand your friend.Probably not to be found in the world
People who have never lost their way
Hearts never shrouded in fog.
And if your friend is in trouble:
Said the wrong thing, the wrong one, and the wrong time -
Do not consider his mistake a deception.Friends, what a stupid blunder my swearing,
Once they gave up on me, -
My house is always open for you. Come in!
Everyone who laughed and saddened with me
I love as before. I have forgiven you all.
But just me, friends, forgive me.
Older
Translation by E. Nikolaevskaya
The tables are set
And there are plenty of guests.
What are we waiting for?
All gathered for a long time ...
We don't sit at the table -
Why?
We are waiting for the elder
All honor to him!Always in the mountains
He was considered the eldest
Who is more rivers
For life will cross
Who are many
Paths-roads will pass
That senior
And he is always honored!And who is the senior? ..
Long ago
By a single measure
Always measured:
The elder was the one
Who has seen more stars!
Now - the eldest one
Whose post is above ...My friend has me
I ask for your assistance.
And he answered:
"I'll ask the elder ..."
Not at the one
Who is older by years! ..
(And for others
I won't give a dime!)To solve the case
At home in the morning ...
And so - everything was sprayed
In the wind:
Over the elder -
There is a senior,
Above that - another ...
I am for advice from a friend -
Not a foot!He was the eldest
In the old days
Who have wise thoughts
I sowed seeds.
Glorious for his courage
And skill -
Not by connections, not by rank,
Not by kinship.Now he is older
Whose rank is greater!
But in this, right,
No reason yet
To him in everything
Serve meekly ...
To be considered senior -
We must earn it!
Visiting Marshak
Translated by J. Kozlovsky
The house is warm and simple in appearance,
You will be a welcome guest here
But just know that in a bull's horn
They won't bring you wine.Take a sip of coffee - a gift from the East,
That is as black as a furrow.
And it will rise high above the table
Conversations are a quiet star.Rosinka is a related word
Can accommodate both the sun and the snow
And it will blow on you again
The warmth of the home.And the valley will fall at your feet
Green herbs and yellow herbs.
And all that time has separated
She will swim in without losing her face.The owner is not hazy in speech.
Will open, respecting the dignity,
He's a book like a Muslim
Before the prayer the Koran.And, the contemporary is not tired,
Shakespeare will put it hot
Your palm for old friendship
On his left shoulder.And it will enter again, moving the years apart,
Like a burka, throwing off a blanket at the door,
Dashing Scotsman, friend of freedom,
Whose heart is like mine is in the mountains.You are also a boy, no doubt
Though your head is gray
And gives thoughts to thoughts
Conversations are a quiet star.You feel embarrassed.
What have you done? What did you write?
Saddled half-blood
Did you take a mountain pass?And if you were at the pass,
Has he touched the sky at a gallop?
Dreamed vainly not yesterday
Do you read poems to Marshak?But now you sit before him and stricter
You evaluate this step
Guilty thinking: “Oh my God,
Has Marshak really read me? "And his eyes are not stern
And as if looking through the years ...
In sorrow, in joy, in anxiety
Shine on me, good star.
Mustai Karim
Translated by J. Kozlovsky
It was covered with snow again
Or maybe the well-worn ones
On white-maned horses in the distance
Murids are flying out from behind the mountains.Taking off my hat on the doorstep,
I shook off the gray hair of bad weather.
And the snow swirls outside the window
Like years, Mustai, like years.The calendars melted quickly.
And even though we didn't change for fashion,
What are you, my dear, do not say
These years have changed us too.We made mistakes with you more than once,
Hurt, drunk and tough,
And they did not hide their eyes,
Where cruel tears stoodI remember: there is only one stone in the heart
We wore while apart
Kuliev Kaisyn was with the Caucasus,
Survived by the silence of torment.Flip through the memory book
Throw open the gate before the past.
You and I have grown up, Mustai,
And we will not be as small as someone else.To our wild, gray heads
The retinue is devoted to bold thoughts,
We sit confidently in the saddles,
Horses falling under the hooves.We fan the fire in the snow
We shun cautious hearts
And not every dispute is thrown into:
Too many of them are empty.I don't have enough time to admire myself
The road calls and hurries us.
Not about fame - about a word, my friend,
We will take care of you tenderly and strictly.Worshiping love and intelligence
The time of the high fret breathes.
We ourselves know what and what,
And there is no need to lead us by the handle.The earth is bound with cold
Then its spring waters seethe.
Our best teachers are
These are years, Mustai, these are years.Writes to us from the hospital in a letter
The pain subsiding under the bandages
A sinner repentant in prison
Confessed before us.The plowman and the sower write to us.
You can't get away from a direct answer.
Years rush to match the horses
Saddled their conscience of the poet.Soon the songs of returning packs
They will ring over the awakened thicket.
It's good that you are near, Mustai,
Loyal friend and real poet!
When I entered the house of Samed Vurgun
Translated by J. Kozlovsky
Oh, it would be easier for me against the tide
Swim now along the mountain river,
Than to drown the bell button for a moment,
Before your door, dying in anguish.I stand alone with a shot through my heart,
Isn't that too cruel, Samed?
It's easier for me to climb a high mountain,
Than to your old house, where you are no longer.I wish I could hug you, bristly.
I scream, I call -
and only in response
Silence thunders like sad music
Like a distant star, the light is cold.And no jokes are heard, and books are like orphans,
And the hearth does not burn with hot fire.
And return to your own home
you cannot,
Kunak who has gone too far.
How early you died, poet!
Translated by E. Nikolaevskaya and I. Snegova
Baku, hearing about your great grief,
I came to you right away from behind the mountains ...
I hear the Caspian Sea crying
I cry - and tears stream from my eyes.The land of Transcaucasia sparkled under the sun,
When he plunged into eternal darkness ...
And he is connected with the spring by the last connection -
Flowers that people bring him ...Like a mother, without erasing an inconsolable tear,
The country bowed over you, Samed.
Longing torments me, tearing my chest ...
.. How early, how early you died, poet! ..Along slender avenues, narrow streets,
Floating over the sad farewell crowd
The coffin sways on the rise and fall,
And the surf escorts him with a groan ...Oh, I would know how woeful is such a weight
Carry on the shoulders of longing people! ..
Today I saw Baku for the first time
With great, inescapable sadness in the eyes.Here they slowly lower the coffin into the grave, -
Goodbye, my brother, unforgettable Samed! ..
Forever you say goodbye to the sky, dear -
How early, how early you died, poet! ..Night fogs move over the Caspian Sea ...
Goodbye forever, dear man!
I will see the lights of Dagestan tomorrow,
I won't see you, I won't meet you forever ...I will never hear ... I will never see ...
But what is it? Maybe it seems to me?
Your voice is alive, clearer and closer
Sounds so familiar in the stillness of the night.
The birth of a song
Murad Kazhlaev
Translated by J. Kozlovsky
A line without music is wingless,
You make me feel good
And everything in the word is sweet to the heart,
Transfer to music.Fold up the tune that is dashing and violent,
Whose power of the heart is tender.
Let the mountains hit the moon like a tambourine
And the tambourine shines like the moon.Words are both starry and foggy
Show them honor in the mountains:
On African tom-toms
And put it on the pipe.You make the streams of strings
And compose such a song
So that your cheeks stick to your cheeks,
Lips merged, drunk.And sweet heads were spinning
At seductive quiet ones.
And, whipping up a hat, an Akushin
I threw myself into a dance like into fire.Without forgetting salty tears,
Bring joy to people
And in the fields of love slain
Bless and resurrect.When sounds are rushing around
And the height is known,
Stretches out his hands to me
The earthly woman is alone.Take my words
and if
In them you will make the earth with the sky,
They will probably become a song
Taking off like birds from mountain roofs.
Old friends
Translation by E. Nikolaevskaya
Old friends ... When
I meet someone
Then, sadly, I note:
Dispersed in all directions.What happened - I don't understand:
I only see that others -
Not lame, not sick -
Failed as if into darkness.Old friends for a moment
Lost sense of proportion:
Has led some careers
The wives took others away.Their features have changed,
But I hardly believe
What suddenly became prisoners
Gossip, lies and slander.Old friends, really,
Leaving no hope
Your clothes have changed
Replaced overcoat?Remember, in other years,
How did fate intertwine with fate?
Maybe all the warmth remains
In those icy trenches?My old friends
And career, like fame,
Changeable, sly,
Brotherhood is not an example of love.If there is no rest from wives -
As friends, they say, tired! -
Show them overcoats
Those soldiers of old.Dear ones, every time
Flame burns my chest
If they are not next to us,
Those - living - who have forgotten us.I sometimes have dreams
I wake up in pain, -
As if they cut off my finger ...
... Did they come from the war? ..
Teardrop
In memory of Batal Kuashev
Translated by N. Grebnev
Will you, teardrop, help me in my grief?
Will you shine and dispel trouble?
Highlander, why do you disgrace me,
Why do you shine in front of people?The one whose eyes we closed today
I saw grief and cold and heat,
But never his eyes are powerless
Not covered with your veil.Quietly, a tear whispered to me:
“If you are ashamed, do not torment yourself.
Tell people that a rain flashed
A small drop that fell from the clouds. "
To fellow students of the literary institute
Translated by J. Kozlovsky
Once upon a time we poems to each other
We read in the heat of the young
And the stanzas went in circles
Like a bowl of wine.Everyone remembers the Lyceum vaults
From holiness to sins.
To each other, as in the best years,
We do not read poetry.And famously we don't argue, as before,
And we don't sing old songs,
And foes in a daring hope
We do not betray anathema.Where are our poor revels,
Where are the wings behind our back?
Where are our lovely girlfriends
Words about love under the moon?Walked like in a spring meadow
The voice of the sky in us seemed to subside.
Less and less questions to each other
Less and less often the answers to them.There is a danger of illness in fame:
We climbed the peaks alone
Read each other's lack of time
And those who remained in the shadows.But we are not lying to ourselves
And with a sober mind they reached:
Not all,
that he lives while alive,
It will live when we die.And often I dream about you,
Worthy of invisible wings,
And those who have forgotten me
And those I have not forgotten?I walk along Tverskoy Boulevard,
The moon is floating above me
And happy in a friendly way again
I whisper your names.
"Come on, childhood friend Mohammed ..."
Translated by J. Kozlovsky
Come on, childhood friend Mohammed, heir to Mohammed,
We graze the Aul goats at light on the mountain slope.
Or we'll catch hamsters with you
And we will exchange their skins for bread at the furriers.Or maybe on a market day we will go to Khunzakh
And we will get apples there at our own risk and fear?
Or maybe ... Oh, I forgot, childhood friend Mohammed,
That in the world since that time lay between us forty years.And your gravestone, as in the frost of winter,
The heir of Magoma, who left me long ago.You don't know, my friend, who has gone into the depths of centuries,
How many two-legged hamsters have grown today.I bowed my head. I'm sorry that you are not alive
Otherwise, together with you, we would rip their skins off.
"Oh kunaki, my friends ..."
Translation by E. Nikolaevskaya
Oh kunaki, my friends,
I'm sad without you unbearable!
Embraced by unquenchable longing,
I'm almost dying ...When you come - I'm glad
I almost get sick
I overcome with difficulty
Conversations for three hours in a row.Here you say goodbye to me
And I stand looking after you,
And longing crept up behind
And it poured a heavy wave ...And I lose sleep at night ...
But my wife and daughters are sleeping,
And the lines are sleeping or running away ...
Oh my kunaki, friends!
Here on the peaks
Translated by N. Grebnev
My friend, stop empty arguments
Stop laughing, erase the tear
Climb the mountains faster
You bustling down below!Don't be afraid of dizziness
From the height,
Don't be afraid to lose your sight here
From beauty!Climb the mountains faster
Calm down your doubts
Your freedom will open the gates
With your invisible hand!Peace will reach out to you
And fleetingly, on the go,
Will squeeze your hand, crush boredom
And false enmity with her.Freeze, and somewhere in the distance
A soft crunch will be heard
The antlers of the deer will appear,
Like a ridiculous bush on a rock.At midnight you will look at the sky,
You reach the moon with your fingers
In the distance, unafraid deer
They will dance under your zurna.Here all ranks and faces are equal,
There are enough awards for everyone here.
Here only birds are for man,
And then through the foolishness, they flatter.Every person is honored here,
He is friendly and familiar with everyone.
I must kneel here
He is just in front of the spring.My friends, stop arguing,
From the stuffiness of their apartments
Climb the mountains faster
To see the world from above.Don't be afraid to lose your sight here
From beauty,
Don't be afraid of dizziness
From the height!
"Take care of your friends" Rasul Gamzatov
Know, my friend, the price of enmity and friendship
And do not sin in a hasty judgment.
Anger at a friend, maybe instant,
Do not rush to pour out.Maybe your friend hurried himself
And I offended you by chance.
A friend was guilty and obeyed -
Do not remember him a sin.People, we age and decay
And over the course of our years and days
It's easier for us to lose our friends
We find them much more difficult.If a faithful horse, injuring his leg,
Don't blame him - blame the road
And do not rush to change the horse.People, I ask you, for God's sake,
Do not be shy about your kindness.
There are not so many friends on earth:
Be careful not to lose friends.I followed the rules of others
Seeing evil in weakness.
How many friends have left me.After that there was a lot of things.
And it used to be on steep paths
How I repented, how I lacked
To me my lost friends!And now I yearn to see you all,
Who once loved me
I have not forgiven once
Or who have not forgiven me.
Analysis of Gamzatov's poem "Take care of your friends"
Often in the hustle and bustle of everyday life, people forget about the value of friendship. We think that friends will always be with us, and we take their kindness for granted. And when troubles happen, quarrels, we turn away from loved ones and forget about them. Only with time can we understand how important were those whom we left in the past, and we regret the loss.
This lesson is often too expensive for us. Fortunately, there are works that are able to remind us of the most important things in time. One of these is “Take care of your friends” by the famous Soviet and Russian poet Rasul Gamzatovich Gamzatov (1923 - 2003). It was translated by N. Grebneva and published in the collection of the same name in 1972.
This work is the instruction of a wise teacher. Its vocabulary is simple, so even a child can understand and comprehend it. Despite the fact that the author acts as a mentor, the poem does not sound strict, mentoring. When reading, there is no feeling that the reader is being taught or educated. On the contrary, the author speaks to the audience as to close friends to whom he wishes only the best. The poet uses the address "my friend", personal pronouns "you", "you", emotionally exclaims: "People, I ask you, for God's sake ..."
In his poem, the poet tries to reconcile people. He invites each side to be more patient, more indulgent towards the other. The author asks not to make hasty conclusions and consider the situation from a different angle:
Maybe your friend hurried himself
And I offended you by chance.
A friend was guilty and obeyed -
Do not remember him a sin.
The main values \u200b\u200bfor Rasul Gamzatovich are kindness and friendship. It reminds readers that friends are people who are very easy to lose and difficult to make. That there are not so many of them in life, so it is necessary to value these people.
The poet compares human friendship with the attitude towards a horse, a faithful helper in the mountains:
If a faithful horse, injuring his leg,
Suddenly stumbled, and then again,
Don't blame him - blame the road
And do not rush to change the horse.
Thus, the poet calls for paying more attention to the circumstances than to the actions, since even the actions of his friend that are unpleasant for a person can be dictated by difficult conditions, and not by his personal desires.
What gives the poet the right to reason in this way? A wealth of personal experience appears to be the basis for these reflections. The author admits that quarrels and quarrels with friends happened in his life:
How many friends have I left in my life,
How many friends have left me.
It seems that you need to get acquainted with this poem at the age when you are just starting to make friends with other children. And then, throughout your life, re-read it from time to time to remind yourself how important it is to maintain and maintain warm relations with loved ones. Then, perhaps, there will be noticeably more happiness and kindness in life.