Орақ пен балға туралы жыр Poem of the Hammer and Sickle

Орақ пен балға туралы жыр

Кешегі ұранымыз –
Өткеніңе қаратпайтын! –
“Алға!” “Алға!” болды.
Елдік таңбамыз
Орақ пен балға болды.
Сол үшін мақтандық!
Мақтанғанымыз сонша
Кеңес Одағының
Кеңістігіне симай
Жарылуға шақ қалдық...
Әлбетте,
Қару- жарақпен емес,
Еңбек құралдарымен
Мақтанғаның дұрыс қой.
(Еңбек дегенің ең асыл,
Қастерлі ұлы іс қой.)
... Дегенмен,
Өткір орағымен! –
Шөп пен астықты емес,
Адамдарды
Орып жатты.
(Судай төгілген
Қып- қызыл қанымды
Сорып жатты.)
Балғасымен
Тас- төбемнен ұрып
Қағып жіберді.
Омыртқаны опырып,
Жілігімді шағып жіберді...
... Біз осы
Анау деп, мынау деп
Өзімізді өзіміз
Неге алдай береміз?! –
Орағымен! –
Орғанда да
Қырнап орған екен—
Әлі де
Өсе алмай келеміз.
Бүгінде сөйлесек,
Түгелдей ержүрек,
Түгелдей батырмыз...
Апыр- ай
Балғасымен! –
Қақақанда да
Сіңіріп қаққан екен—
Әлі де!—
Суырылмай жатырмыз…
 

Poem of the Hammer and Sickle

Our former motto –
which blocked off our past –  
was ‘On, on!’
Our state emblem
was the hammer and sickle.
We were proud!
We were so proud
we were fit to burst,
the Soviet Union’s borders
couldn’t contain us.
Of course,
it’s better to boast
of the worker’s tools
than the soldier’s.
(Labour is indeed
the most sacred occupation).
… However,
their sharp sickle! –
was cutting down
people!
Not grass or crops.
(My blood
that flowed like water
was sucked away).
Their hammer
struck my head
and floored me.
My spinal column was smashed
and my shinbones shattered …
Why do we
keep deceiving ourselves,
saying this and that?
Their sickle
mowed us down
with such force –
we haven’t grown since.
When we talk today,
we boast that we’re all so valiant,
such heroes.
Oh God,
their hammer! –
Struck us down so far
that we are still
underground,
not yet pulled up.
 

This poem is informed by a great deal of history, politics and personal pain, and it was a challenge for all of us to work out how that could be cleanly conveyed in English, especially given the form, with its brisk lines and staccato rhythm. We had animated discussions over everything from the title (‘Song of’? ‘Poem of’? Just ‘Hammer and Sickle’?) to the semantic implications of ‘tools’ vs. ‘instruments’, ‘toil’ vs. ‘labour’. The liveliest exchanges concerned the lines about pulverised bones. Assiya explained that the Kazakh words Medetbek uses for these bones evolved within a particular nomadic dialect, so that this choice of terminology reflects very pointedly whose bones were broken by the state. About half the group were convinced that Latinate words (‘vertebrae’, ‘tibia’) would at least suggest either a level of precision or an appropriate oddness of terminology, while the other half felt these choices would be misleading. In the end, we settled for ‘spinal column’ and ‘shinbones’, in part for the sonic effect, which subtly echoes the sound of smashing and splintering.

Jon Stone, Workshop Facilitator

A Poem of the Hammer and Sickle

Our former motto – 
Which didn’t allow one to look back at their past! –
Was ‘Go, go!’ [lit.‘Forward, forward!’]
Our state emblem  
Was hammer and sickle.
We were proud of that!
We were so proud
That were close to bursting
Not able to contain ourselves
In the Soviet Union’s borders.
Of course,
It is better to be proud [=brag]
Of instruments of labour,
VS ammunition.
(Labour [=toil] is indeed, 
the most precious, sacred occupation).
…However,
Their sharp sickle! –
Was cutting down
People!
Not grass and crops.
(My blood,
That poured like water,
Was sucked into [the Earth.])
Their hammer
Hit on my head
And grounded me.
My vertebral column was smashed,
And my tibia shattered…
…Why we
Keep deceiving ourselves 
Saying this and that?
Their sickle 
Has mowed us down
With such a rigour – 
We can’t grow [=multiply] ever since.
When we talk today
We [brag that we] are all-valiant,
All-batyrs.*
Oh God,
Their hammer! –
Grounded us so hard
That we are still –
Underground
We are not pulled out.
 
* Batyr – originally term for ‘hero’ or ‘valiant warrior’, roughly equivalent to the European knight; nowadays the term signifies military or masculine prowess.
 

Original Poem by

Temirkhan Medetbek

Translated by

Assiya Issemberdiyeva with The Poetry Translation Workshop Language

Kazakh

Country

Kazakhstan