HOW EARLY, POET, YOU'VE GROWN OLD

Although endowed with a talent of verse
A poet also knows sorrow s curse.
So life usually goes, I guess,
With frequent failures, and success.
"What's this" - say folk "You're looking worse!
Your hair is frosted with winter's cold-
How early, poet, you've grown old!"

A lovely young lady, yesterday,
Who greeted me with a fine bouquet,
Like a statue stood in great surprise,
A thousand questions in her eyes.
And there I read in her looks anyway,
The thoughts, the words which were not told:
"How early, poet, you've grown old!"

I thought that hunting 1 would go,
Spend day and night on the steppe, you know,
From the peaks descending to the plain
Like an arrow I flew, like falling rain,
At the mountain deer I took aim, so..,
The answer off-target bullets told:
How early, poet, you've grown old!"

At times from the house-tors, at times quite slow
My lyre-strings ring both high and low,
Even he whose word, whose love is a lie,
Whose friendship is merely a bribe, by the by
And the devil, who always scares one so
On meeting tell me, brash and bold:
"How early, poet, you've grown old!"

My head's gone gry before its time
But ardent still is this heart of mine
My head's gone grey, but why worry, then?
My hand can still control the pen...
I know my beloved, and my Motherland fine
Will never tell me, in sunset gold!
"How early, poet, you've grown old!"

1953

 

Библиотека им. Самеда Вургуна >> Произведения >> HOW EARLY, POET, YOU'VE GROWN OLD


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