In Ahvaha Rasul Gamzatov Poem by Yuri Starostin

In Ahvaha Rasul Gamzatov



In Ahvaha
To friend Musa Magomedov

The heart to fought often more,
Let`s we will go in Ahvaha,
We will know, whether we are young still
Or has walk enough in the grooms?

Let's shake by youth in Ahvaha
And again,
As there go by go,
We will be thrown ours papakhas
To one of the girls in the window.

And at once to us it becomes understand,
Whom the little girl is enamoured:
Whose cap will take off back,
To him the little girl is cold...

And about the love the rumours are dashing, -
All it was in a not yesterday.

In that old year I become the teenager,
I call to the not contemporaries in the aul,
And those who was much more older,
Tried to entice in the friends.

Whether not therefore I has come
With the guys in the one court yard,
Where before the term I has distinguish,
And I do not repent in that.

The foliage rustled, as a foam,
The shined thin moon.
We long listened, as she sang,
Bergine sitting at the window.

About the sun she sang, and about the stars,
And about the one who to the heart is lovely.
Let he hastens, while it is not late,
While another has not fallen in love.

That more quivering than a bird
My soul became- it is not amazing,
And the guys have thrown off the papakhas
And began to aim in the window.

Here the skill was not necessary.
I do as a lot: yes or no,
As an equal do, a cap I has thrown dared
For them papakhas after.

It seemed, I did not breathe at all,
When the papakhas one by one,
As though from the zacut a sheep,
Jumped out under the moon.

And the cap with the peak is similar
On an interrupted wing,
When it has fallen down to the ground too,
I have understood - to me have not carried.

And the girl from the co-suffer
Has told:
- Boy, wait.
You have come early on the meeting,
Later, milder, come.

Shivering from the grief, as from a fear,
I have left, the wounded youth,
And someone behind him papakhas
In the open window was climbed.

The years, as a waters have flown,
The not one time the foliage ashes were turned,
As through the mountains, in the years
I have arrived again in Ahvaha.

The mountain brides...
Whether I have fallen
In the field of time for them?
With me the others guys were,
And I was more elder others.

All are as then: and the same song,
And the rustle of a leaves in the silence.
And I see,
It seemed even,
The same girl in the window.

When have gone the papakhas in the business,
About a happiness asking the girl,
And a fashionable mine hat
In the window opened has flown.

The guys, having the grief, was sighed,
Ah, the real making sober:
The papakhas down to the ground came back,
Slightly raising a dust.

And, having flown away almost to the collars,
The wide-brimmed mine
Hat, as the raven has fallen,
Hit from a gun.

And the girl from the co -suffer
Has told, as in a reproach:
- You have come late on the meeting,
Where you are walking till now?

All are as then, all so is similar.
And the stars saw from a heavens:
Another who was younger than me,
In a window open go climbed.

And so all the century long,
Strangely enough,
I hasten,
By the hope I value,
But I come so too early,
So too late I come.


Transfer from Avarian J.Kozlovskogo

Evening of poetry. The repertuarnyj collection.
Moscow: Art,1964.

Friday, April 5, 2013
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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