Абай Кунанбаев творчество

Стихи, поэмы, биография Абая Кунанбаева

Word Nine

I, too, am a Kazakh. But do I love the Kazakhs or not?
If! did, I would have approved of their ways and would
have found something, however slight, in their conduct to
rejoice or console me, a reason to admire at least some of
their qualities, and keep alive a glimmer of hope. But this
is not so.

Had I not loved them, I would not have spoken
to them from the heart or taken counsel with them: I would
have not mixed with them and taken an interest in their
affairs, asking, What are people doing there? What’s
going on? I would just have sat back quietly or Wan
dered of. I have по hope that they will mend their ways or
that! may bring them to reason or reform them. So I feel
neither of these emotions. But how come? I ought to have
opted for one or the other.
Even though I live, I do not consider myself to be
alive. I don’t know why: maybe because I’m vexed with
the people or dissatisfied with myself, or for some other
reason. Outwardly alive but completely dead within, that’s
what I am. Outwardly irate, I feel no anger. Laughing, lam
unable to rejoice. The words that I speak and the laughter
that! utter seem not to be mine. Everything is alien.
In my younger days it never occurred to me that any-
one could forsake his own people. I loved the Kazakhs
with all my heart and believed in them. But as I came to
know my people better and my hopes began to fade, I
found that I lacked the strength to leave my native region
and form kinship with strangers. This is why there Is avoid
in my heart now. But then I think, perhaps it’s for the bet
ter When dying, I will not lament: Alas, I have not tasted
this or that joy! Not torturing myself with regrets about
earthly things, I shall find solace in the life to come.

Abay(Абай Құнанбаев)

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