My village

Up on the hill, is my village, my aul,
There is a creek, with water pure and cool.
I feel its taste, I know its every part,
I love this place with all my soul and heart.
Here, praised be Allah, I was born and raised
And with the Holy Book, Quran’s ayats amazed.
Here I was told about Muhammad’s life,
Our great prophet, who had taught us to survive.
When I remember that, my eyes fill up with tears
In memory forever live these childhood years.
How with my brother in the field we used to plow
And grains of wheat and rye in soil sow.
I’m still a stranger to this world, but who is not?
I still have much to learn, to see a lot.
And yet I know but one most sacred rule
In memory to keep my village, my aul.

tatar fairy tales