The Northern Breeze

The chilling northern breeze
blows relentlessly
across the steppes.
The green firs are drowsing on the shore.
They have seen
the ancient and more recent days.
The green fir trees,
rearing up to the skies,
have earned the right
to grow and think,
having witnessed grief.
They have seen
so many of our people
exiled to the camps of Itžekken.¹
I have come here to sing of you
in weighty songs
that seek to tell the truth.
In the distant past
the waves flowed against us,
but now our boats
can sail on serenely.
Having so often
witnessed hard times,
I am the child of the high mountains.
The scattering
leaves of a birch tree
are they responding also to that past?
The chilling northern breeze
blows relentlessly
across the steppes.
The green firs are drowsing on the shore,
they have seen
the ancient and more recent.

¹Itžekken – Kazakh term for Siberian prison camps.

(date unknown, translated by david cooke)

source: Ministry of Culture and Sport of the Republic of Kazakhstan (ed.), Contemporary Kazakh literature. Poetry, 2019: 65.

marfuga aitkhozha (b. 1936 in kuldzha city, china) is an eminent kazakh poet