A keresés eredménye

Native language

Always all in a dream is a ridiculous is and strange.
An asleep was me today my death.
There is in the afternoon heat in the valley of Dagestan
With a lead in the breast I was lying motionless.
 
A rings river runs un-hartable.
Forgotten and I did not need to anyone
I was flattened on a dear earth
Before being myself a ground.
 
I am dying, but no one does not know
About it and will not come to me,
Only an eagles are screeching somewhere in a heaven
And a fallow deers moans somewhere aside.
 
And to weep over my grave
That I died in the prime years,
No mother, no a friend, no a darling,
What is really there - and a mourners no.
 
So I was laying, dying in a powerless
And suddenly heard is not afar
Two men walked and talked,
To me is own, on avar language.
 
There is in the afternoon heat in the valley of Dagestan
I was dying, and a people led a speech
About a tricks of some Hasan,
About an antics of some Ali.
 
And, vaguely hearing the sound of the native speech
I came to life, and the moment has come
When I understand that would cure me
Not a doctor, not a medicine man, but the native language.
 
Someone heals from a diseases
An another language, but to me on it it is not sing,
And if tomorrow my language disappears,
I am ready to die today.
 
I always feel sick to him,
Let say that my language is a poor,
Let no sounds from the rostrum of the Assembly,
But, native for me, for me, it's great.
 
And to understand Mahmoud, my heir
Do read the translation?
Shall I am, the writer of a last,
Who by an avar writes and sings?
 
I love a life, I love the whole planet,
In it everyone, even a small area,
And most of all the Country of a Councils,
About it I sang by an avar as I could.
 
I loved the edge of blooming and free,
From the Baltic to the Sakhalin - all.
I'd be lost anywhere,
But let me will bury in the earth here!
 
To have a grave plate near the village
And avars are remembered sometimes
By an Avar word a countryman Rasul -
A successor of Gamzat from Tsad.