You, Caucasus, - a stern king of the earth -
I dedicate again verse careless:
As his son, you bless
And the fall of the top of a snow-white!
From an early age is boiling in my blood
Your heat and storms of your rebellious impulse;
In the north of the country you stranger
I heart your, - always and everywhere your!..
Your peaks jagged ridges
I wore in the realm of the hurricane,
And I took, cherish, you
In the embrace of the blue mist.
And I looked delighted with height,
And beneath me, some giant ostov,
In the steppe overgrown with moss and grass,
Lay a pile of age-old mountains.
Over my children's head crown
Swaddle your gray clouds;
When it rolled rattling thunder,
And awaken from sleep, like sentinels,
Caves hail circle,
I knew their sounds fatal,
I am an ardent soul edge nadzvezdny
He flew on the chariot of thunder!..
My soul did not understand the world. His
Soul is not necessary. The darkness of her deep,
As the mysterious darkness of eternity,
Nobody's living will not penetrate the eye.
And it somehow, inaccessible to the mind,
Living Memories from
Holy Land ... no light, no noise earth
They will not kill ... I'm yours! I have throughout your!..
Between Mashukov and Besht, ago
Tom thirty years, saying aul, mountains
Closed from storms and liberty rich.
He is no. curly bushes
covered field: wild grapes
Clinging winds long tails
round stones, coated gray,
Since neighboring vertices discharged storm!..
No abusive noise, no song young
Circassian really there can not be heard Bole;
And on a hot, summer day a herd of steppe
Without guard goes there, one, after vole;
And without looking back with a spear behind
Don Cossack enters into this field;
And safe in heaven Eagle,
drafting circles, He looks for a quiet dol.
And there, when sunset
Paling blush dresses
mountain peaks, - desert snake
From under the stones frolic creeps;
It pockmarked shine scales
silver sheen, like shine
broken sword, left fighter
In the thick grass on the fateful.
Burned village - and hearing about it disappeared.
His sons are scattered in foreign lands ...
Just before the fire, on a foggy day, Circassians
Sometimes it talks about now
For small children. - And other people's heaven
Pet, driving through the desert,
In vain rumor Cossack: "Tell,
Do not znaeshy auditorium Bastundzhi? »
In the village is without neighbors and friends
Once upon a time two brothers lived,
And there was dreadful Pyatigorye
And there was no braver Akbulut .
The youngest was weak and gentle with the young days,
As the color of spring under sunset beam!
Shunned battles and blood and evil he,
But the spark in him was concealed ... and waited ...
Their father was killed in a Strange Land.
А мать Селим убил своим рожденьем,
AND, though innocent, started life,
How many end up, - crime!
He was not happy soul draw,
He could anyone not be a comfort;
When he first opened his eyes,
His smile met thunderstorm!..
He grew up at the behest of one ..., no worries,
like a bird, between earth and heaven!
Wandering among family since childhood heights,
He was accustomed to see the clouds beneath your feet,
Above is one vast vault;
Sometimes caught in the steppe dreams,
One was sitting up late at night he,
And around him flew a wonderful dream.