Қыс

                                               Зима

Broad-shouldered, white-coated, powdered with snow,

Blind and dumb, with a great big silvery beard,

Grandad Winter plods on with a frown on his brow,

By everything living hated and feared.

The grumpy old fellow does plenty of harm.

His breath stirs up blizzards, brings snow and cold.

With a cloud for a hat on his shaggy head,

He marches along, all the world in his hold.

His beetling eyebrows are knit in a frown.

When he tosses his head—dismal snow starts to fall.

Like a crazy old camel he acts in his rage,

Rocking and shaking our yurta’s thin wall.

If the children run out to play in the yard

He pinches their noses and checks with cruel hands.

No sheepskin can keep out (he freezing cold;

With his back lo the wind, the shepherd stands.

The horses in vain try to shatter the ice—

The hungry herd scarcely shuffle their feet.

Greedy wolves—winter’s henchmen—bare  their fangs;

Watch, or disaster your flocks may meet!

Drive them off to safe pastures—don’t wait until day.

You won’t die if you sleep less—come, quicken your step.

Kondibai and Kondai* aren’t as wicked as wolves—

Don’t let old man Winter, feast in our steppes.

Translated by Dorian Rottenberg

* Kondibai, Kondai—hostile clans living near Abai’s native aul.—Ed.