Life
I was seventeen, eighteen, nineteen,
Translated from Uzbek · Original text
I was seventeen, eighteen, nineteen,I was twenty-three, or twenty-four.In short, I was young, and never onceDid I think myself unripe or frail.I was a lion before I ever saw the arena, after all,I would not bow my head before the mountains.If anyone gave me counsel, I looked down on him,I loved to wander by the gardens.I had not a speck of patience for the true word,Only what I knew was right, and that was that.In truth, keeping faith with my own ego,I was always walking in Satan’s steps.If good people spoke of what was good for me,I would stop up my ears and run far away.For there was no grief in my heart, no tears in my eyes,And in my hand there fluttered a flag called arrogance.Such a veil had covered my eyes,My mind had been left in such darkness —My reason, strange to say, had sunk into folly,Selfishness had taken all I had out of my hands.Completely enchanted with my own image,I was the one perfect man in the world.Not casting a glance at those in pain and sorrow,Everyone else was guilty, and I was snow-white.With a single word I broke — oh, a thousand sighs —Dozens of hearts, thoughtlessly, mercilessly.Wishing well only to my own name,Glory and fame were my only dream.However much the rabid ego rages,It must be given a fitting punishment.Now, if a thorn no longer pains it,Now fate takes up the whip in its hand.Years I spent beneath the whips,The pain of the lash is still in my body.O you who love your ego, who are its slaves,The blade of misfortune is waiting for you.O my dear one, who turns his face from the true word,Do you really not want salvation for your soul?!These words I speak are not my own,The owner of these words is this bitter life.If you reject the pearl of counsel,If your teacher is left a stranger by your side,Then life itself, finding a remedy for your every state,Will busy itself with your upbringing.Akrom MALIK
Comments
No comments yet. Be the first.