Poems by Kairat Duissenov Parman / Editer: Muhammad Shanazar)


(Translated by author)


Some Black Magma Buds

In thick layers of snow,
And severe frost on Almaty Mountains
The world seems all white, white
All mythical, legendary
Behind me a machine moves on, not knowing
How to catch up, even at a simple bank…

My feet are heavy, I am an old man,
The machine has overtaken me,
I walk on its trails,
Though it is easy to walk, yet useless.

The machine moves on clearing,
Cleaning the central street,
Behind it are a few people,
They slither the gathered snow down
From the brim of the road.

I move on but exhausted, looking faintly,
At the trees, still wearing white kerchiefs,
No bird sings, only a dog barks
From the courtyard of some distant house,
Or some old crows, peck debris to debris,
Covered with white cotton;
But as I move on, I listen to some mysterious whispers,
“Some black magma is budding
Under the thick white layers of snow”.


A Hidden Danger In The Snowfall

Light shines from the sky
Like a white silvery gull,
Reflects, looks at the garden,
Covered with a white sheet,
In winter the abodes have turned
Into a beautiful white city of snow.

Willows and pines put on white costumes
They adorn the streets
Stand along straight like saints with white beards
White moustaches, white heads,
All white, white,
The pollution that summer gathered
Winter has cleared.

The factories buzz,
The large chimneys sick with asthma
They barely breathe forth, puffs of the gray smoke.
Children play, roll on the extended sheet of snow,
They enjoy themselves with all heart,
There in the park an old man also prepares his sledges.

Some young and old sit away,
They are busy in heart-to-heart talks,
Bring the folk close with the miracle love.

Cotton-white snowflakes fall down from the sky
I feel in them some hidden danger,
As if they will steal imperceptibly
The vibes of my youth,
As they make me feel Satan is fleeting…


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