A SONG TO THE BLUE SKY OF ASIA

BRONTOY BEDYUROV TRANSLATED FROM RUSSIAN BY ELENA KOROLEVA

Art by Hanna Priemetzhofer

A Song to the Blue Sky of Asia

 

I
left behind me 
open 
an enormous blue Sky
from which pierced     
the countless eyestars     
of a man,
eager to solve the riddle
of life’s eternal truth…
The flaming,
soul-burning
gaze of Kül-Tegin.
The wise,
penetrating
gaze of Tonyukuk.
And the Sun,
golden,
sliding smoothly
across the surface of my face—
is my world,
ancient and new,
unknown to me hitherto.
From the immensity of Sky,
from the boundlessness of Blue,
the Baatr-Cliffs
subside.
And behind their backs
Night in its primordial form
descends,
rumbling
like a blue mystical tambourine.
And we too subside,
unable to prepare in time
sensitive radars—our hearts
for the intermittent signals
sent by the future.
But the head of Kök-Türk
was cracking already
from the trails of splintering thoughts
like shooting stars.
And there
the rains drummed
in my eyes,
in the eyes of my Motherland
the rains beat,
quietly rolling down the slopes
of bitter poverty and hope,
washing away our bad dreams,
with peals of thunder 
opening the eyes wide,
like grains of wheat
dozing until spring.
There the narrow eyes
habitually slide
аcross the green canvases of plateaus,
like eagles that plunge off rocks 
and die, exulting in nature’s elements.
There the grain rises
to the Sky,
the enormous Sky,
but, sun-scorched,
hangs powerless,
unshaken by the wind.
And its screams go unheard—
no sooner leaving bloodless mouths
than swallowed by Blue Air—
the organ of silence.
No ripe sunrises
now await them!

And the plateaus can’t breathe—
the green canvases are cracked,
turned to dust,
the property of dreary exotica.
And only the Sky remains,
the enormous Sky
above this land,
where the white hands of snowy peaks
stretch toward the Sun,
catch the rains
and, washing away dreams,
inspired by the tambourine’s rumbling,
blessed,
in ecstasy,
slap their thighs
to stir up the silence,
to make it sing, hum,
regaining the old,
lost voice of hope     
Blue Air—
the organ silent for centuries
now tells the secrets
it hid and saved.

And I
left behind me     
open
an enormous Blue Sky
from which pierced 
the countless eyestars
of a man,
eager to solve the riddle
of life’s eternal truth…
The flaming,
soul-burning
gaze of Kül-Tegin.
The wise,
penetrating
gaze of Tonyukuk.
And the Sun,
golden,
sliding smoothly
across the surface of my face—
is my world,
ancient and new,
unknown to me hitherto.
And just try      
to hit me, to beat me, 
you, fair-haired, callow wind.

Oh, Sky of Asia—
Eternal Sky!
Oh, Kök Tengery—
God of great Heavens!

 

1967