(from an American newspaper)
I don’t know how or why, but this I’m told,
A little caged mouse fell in a bowl
Of milk, swam back and forth, could not escape,
The milk was liquid, drowning was her fate.
All frantic motion, where will she be safe?
She’s paddling here and there, she keeps her faith.
Her work was not in vain, I’m pleased to utter,
She swam so long, that milk turned into butter
And for a moment you could see her standing there.
Then, she leapt off and ran into her lair.
My dearest one! If you are treading that same bowl,
Be patient, stoic, don’t forget your goal.
With lips of honey you I praise for high moral,
But when I’m faced with evil, I will quarrel.
In my directness, meanness takes her stage,
It is enough to make me fly into a rage.
“Why so? You’re not allowed,” I yell. “You're busted.”
“Oh, fools, just go to hell.” I am disgusted.
And if they aim at me with nonsense, I don’t say
That they are wrong, and that is not the way…
“You are mistaken in your aim, friend, take your arrow,”
I say all friendly, though it pierced me to the marrow.
My heart is bitter, bitter turns my rhyme.
It’s undercooked, although I thought that it was time.
I want to free a songbird from my chest,
Instead, a cat meows there, oh what a pest!
A rainbow holds its color for all hours,
Each taste will find its match in sweet and sour.
I also mix the sweet and bitter in my deed,
Following Lermontov and Pushkin as my creed.
Slowly but surely I climb ever higher,
I want to cry out from the quivering spire.
From such great heights, I am afraid to fall
But I will brave the way, I’ll reach my goal.
My dormant feelings finally will awake.
No grave needs to correct me, I am no mistake,
And in my heart, Tengri will light the path,
Watch after me with patience, not with wrath.