Aigerim Tazhi
"At the edge of the village"
At the edge of the village a woman in a stupa ground millet.
She whistled brazenly, calling the wind from the steppe
to keep the chaff flying so her eyes wouldn't sting.
They all protested — she brings on the wind again —
"She's summoned a hurricane," "plays with the storm."
The wind blew over the grain.
A storm-cloud was born deep inside the stupa,
rose over the house,
taken in by the people, animals.
Mighty golden eagles dispersed.
Foxes barked.
The fire in the samovar hooted like a locomotive.
A swarm of blind husks. Her pestle beat to fatigue
in the mortar's cage. The grain grew heavy.
“That will do, enough!” —
then she lifted herself over the stupa.
The wind dropped like a hunting dog
on the doorstep, exhausted.
From: Paper-Thin Skin
Publisher: Zephyr, , 2019
"Bij de rand van een dorp"
Bij de rand van een dorp vijzelde een vrouw het graan
Om zich te ontdoen van de kafjes die in haar ogen vlogen
floot ze gezwind de steppewind ter hulp.
Iedereen begon op haar te schelden: ‘een orkaan
lokt ze uit’, ‘het mens speelt met stormen.’
De wind blies op de korrels gierst.
In het holst van de kom ontstond een donkere wolk
die boven het huis uitklom
en mens en dier opslokte.
Machtige steenarenden stoven uiteen,
vossen zetten het op een janken.
Als een stoomtrein pufte het vuurtje in de samovar.
Een blinde pellenzwerm. Afgemat ging de stamper
tekeer in het vat. Het koren hoopte op.
Toen rechtte ze haar kromgebogen rug:
‘Warempel, zo is ‘t genoeg!’
Terstond zeeg de wind neer bij de drempel
gelijk een uitgeraasde jagershond.
Publisher: 2022, Voor het eerst gepubliceerd op PoetryInternational.com,
"В ступе женщина"
В ступе женщина просо толкла на краю аула.
Чтоб труха улетала прочь и глаза не ела,
она лихо свистела, из степи вызывая ветер.
Все ругались – опять вызывает ветер –
«ураган приманила», «играет с бурей».
Ветер дул на зерно.
В недрах ступы рождалась туча,
поднималась над домом,
въедалась в людей, животных.
Разлетались могучие беркуты.
Лаяли лисы.
Костерок в самоваре гудел паровозом.
Рой слепой шелухи. Колотушка устало билась
в клетке чаши. Зерно тяжелело.
«Всё, хватит, много!» –
выпрямлялась над ступой она.
Как охотничий пёс, у порога
ветер падал без сил.
From: Paper-Thin Skin
Publisher: Zephyr,
"At the edge of the village"
At the edge of the village a woman in a stupa ground millet.
She whistled brazenly, calling the wind from the steppe
to keep the chaff flying so her eyes wouldn't sting.
They all protested — she brings on the wind again —
"She's summoned a hurricane," "plays with the storm."
The wind blew over the grain.
A storm-cloud was born deep inside the stupa,
rose over the house,
taken in by the people, animals.
Mighty golden eagles dispersed.
Foxes barked.
The fire in the samovar hooted like a locomotive.
A swarm of blind husks. Her pestle beat to fatigue
in the mortar's cage. The grain grew heavy.
“That will do, enough!” —
then she lifted herself over the stupa.
The wind dropped like a hunting dog
on the doorstep, exhausted.
From: Paper-Thin Skin
Publisher: 2019, Zephyr,
"At the edge of the village"
At the edge of the village a woman in a stupa ground millet.
She whistled brazenly, calling the wind from the steppe
to keep the chaff flying so her eyes wouldn't sting.
They all protested — she brings on the wind again —
"She's summoned a hurricane," "plays with the storm."
The wind blew over the grain.
A storm-cloud was born deep inside the stupa,
rose over the house,
taken in by the people, animals.
Mighty golden eagles dispersed.
Foxes barked.
The fire in the samovar hooted like a locomotive.
A swarm of blind husks. Her pestle beat to fatigue
in the mortar's cage. The grain grew heavy.
“That will do, enough!” —
then she lifted herself over the stupa.
The wind dropped like a hunting dog
on the doorstep, exhausted.
From: Paper-Thin Skin
Publisher: 2019, Zephyr,
Sponsors
