Congratulations on the spring holiday Nauryz! Nauryz - a wonderful celebration of spring. On this day, we hear good congratulations from all residents of Kazakhstan. We rejoice in this beautiful day. In honor of the Nauryz holiday, we asked local writers and poets to write their congratulations to our readers.
- Dear friends of the Literary Portal of Kazakhstan! I heartily congratulate you on our great holiday of the Earth's renewal - Nauryz! I wish you all the best. As a congratulation, accept the fragment of my translation "Word Ak Junus" from the immortal epic "Er Targin". That's how the great women of the Desht-i-Kypchak lands valued their beauty!
Sincerely, Bakhytzhan Kanapyanov
"Word of Aq Zhunis" From the epic "Er Targin"
In Bukhara, silks are famous,
The famous yarn is thin,
My hair is just as light,
They are excited by the swell of the wind.
To the zerger-masters you come,
You will find the golden cups there,
These buttons of gold
You can understand the patterns, perhaps.
These jewels are on me
They shine like stars in a window.
The eyebrow is raised, the speeches are sharp
And my words, I know, are wise.
You, having met a scientist, compare
His wisdom and my speeches.
There, in Imran, there are pistachios
And there is no other fruit to be found there,
My nose is a sharp akin
That image - you compare!
There fixtures everywhere burn,
They look like my glowing look.
And you pass through these fires,
And look into my eyes silently.
In Samarkand you look your way,
There are a number of sandalwood trees,
Know that are merged so my teeth
And they shine in a smile.
There, on the smithy, the masters
Draw the threads of silver,
Look at my hands,
Know that they are just as elegant,
And then you go to the forest,
Know, in it the hare is frolicking,
Know that I'm just as flexible as a camp,
Know that the same way the gait is easy,
There you will see snow in the wind,
There you will see the snow in the morning,
The whiteness of my skin is akin
Snow it - you compare!
You look at my cheeks,
How blush they are,
A blush that the blood on the snow,
You shoot the game - and compare!
I was born in azure Crimea,
He is not visible from here through the darkness.
I am Ak Junhus, the daughter of Akshahan -
And for the reason, and for the mind!
There she was a white “gusenka”,
There, with a tender lamb,
In the school of white mares
I was a quick-fitter with a foal.
Know that they are raving my name
In Ancient China, and in my dear so native Crimea!
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