Page 41 - DIVA_1_2014
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The Future of Turkmen
Fanned expanse from Khazar ripples
To a smooth Jeyhun by winds of Turkmen
Bliss of my eyes -- rose fields, -- You Came into Being
Flow, generated by the mountains of Turkmen
One day your father made love,
And shade and coolness in the Turkmen gardens!
And ners and maya are grazing in the steppes From that semen you came into being,
Reyhan blooms in ochre sands From being water first, you turned into blood,
Meadows abundant in flowers Turkmen From blood you turned into flesh.
Almighty gave an order for
In green, scarlet peri will pass The seven parts of your body to be in place,
In the face amber ointment will smell
The amicable people are led by the wisest And for your bones to form,
Proud land of the people of Turkmen During nine months and nine hours.
God granted you with ears and mouth,
The soul of Gorogly in his brothers is alive
Look, friends, at a Turkmen lion. And a tongue in your mouth,
He doesn't search for mercy He gave you intelligence and life,
When he rises before enemies of Turkmen He gave you eyes and brows.
When young, you found a hand,
People live in unified tribes
The cloth is laid for a holiday When you started walking, you found a path,
A high share is given for fatherland When you started speaking, you found a language,
And granite melts before the armies of Turkmen When you started eating, you found food.
When you reached seven, you went to school,
The dzhigit will look in anger at the mountain,
Mountain quail and ruby lights. You studied and found your life path,
Not water but honey in a flood rages You fell in love with a girl,
The stream -- in union with fields of Turkmen When you reached fourteen.
The Turkmen will not be taken unawares by war. You ate and drank what God provided,
The former need was forgotten by the country. You tried different paths in life,
Here roses do not fade-from them any, Your beloved loved you in return
Doesn't complain apart from the singers of Turkmen And you two became engaged.
Here a brotherhood -- custom and friendship and the law You turned twenty-four,
For the glorious birth and powerful tribes You matured; you were wild as wind,
And if the people took up arms to fight You raced a horse; you were armed with a sword,
Enemies tremble before the sons of Turkmen You became capable of fighting in a battle.
Wherever the road may lead Turkmens, When you turn thirty,
Mountain ranges of the earth will part. Your head is still hazy,
Descendants will remember Magtymguly -- Thanks to the energy of youth,
Will truly be the mouth of Turkmen. You wandered and enjoyed life.
You enjoyed your life to its fill,
You witnessed its devotion,
You stepped into your forties,
You are mature now, fully aware.
The Soul Never Dies
You couldn't reap all the fruits from the garden of your life,
The tongue is alive thanks to the order of the Lord, The frosty wind killed your branches,
Though the eyes are closed, the soul never dies. You reached that age when
Belief is a new flower in the garden of the soul, You have to be ashamed of your
Once blossomed, it will never fade away. Grey beard at the age of fifty.
You reached sixty now,
The state of health is better than any treat,
The blessing of God is better than any service, Your thoughts are all in despair,
If the fate of death comes directly after you, Your happy days are over,
Pleading a thousand times won't keep your soul. No more springs, winter has come.
Young men, listen to my words, At seventy, each time you get on your feet saying "Oh, God"
Put an end to your hopes of world friendship, You have no strength, you fall,
Whatever part of love and desire is bigger, You are old, you cannot work anymore
It won't leave you at peace days and nights. Speak, what are you doing?
Oh, the son of Adam, you are born to leave this world, If you reach eighty,
You realize there is a place for you to sleep, How will this state of yours pass by?
You will try your best to have your own world, The rush and high times are over,
But probably, you aren't smart enough to realize this dream. You resemble an abandoned unharvested field.
Hey, a man of high dignity enjoying the world's wealth, At ninety words come out wrong,
I'm a poor man, I can't speak a lot, The colour grey is mistaken for black,
The market of world fate is such a skilful gambler, Bones get weaker, and porous,
That a human being is not capable of winning it. All you have is one hundred thousand issues.
The body is satisfied with food and drink, Magtymguly, your life is gone,
Whereas a sweet word is surprisingly pleasant to the ears of soul, You haven't noticed it as if you were in sleep.
The soul will have no good advice, What have you done for Allah,
Likewise water reaching the rocky stone, it won't do any good. When you reached a hundred.
Magtymguly, youthful time is like a spring,
For healthy people it looks like pleasant talk and music,
Joyful days will seem not enough, though lasting for a hundred years.
Whereas bad days will never come to end though not many.
History 39 1
