Apologies: the Georgian original is not yet available Vainakhs

Original
Translated
Guide
Notes

Apologies: the Georgian original is not yet available

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Vainakhs

The sun has carved a white cameo on the window of the Lord.

Perhaps tonight in Ichkeria the sky is also white.

The sky is white and the Chechen eagles cannot sleep -

How could they sleep?

It's snowing. The ruined vineyard is turning pale.

It's snowing. The Vainakhs guard their mountain peaks.

And if tonight the sky of Grozny is set ablaze,

How can those lions, the Caucasians, stay silent?

Where are the invincible, headstrong horsemen?

How I wish I could saddle up all of Georgia's horses

And muster up an army in the meadows of Iveri.

What is life if not the urge to engage the enemy in the game of war?

What is death if your heart is boiling with rage?

What is life if the enemy has stripped us of our honour?

If only I could bring my country back to life

I would astound it with my Georgian courage.

I'd make the great bells thunder in their belfries.

I'd follow Prince Cholokashvili to fight beside the Vainakhs!

I'd butcher the hearts of wicked souls.

I'd sheltered the Chechen's beautiful daughters.

I'd shatter the ice smothering roses and violets.

I'd breathe life into my frozen Caucasians.

Wounded, I would rouse myself with rage.

I'd flood myself like sunlight over the mountain peaks.

I'd force the enemy to dance on the points of their swords.

I'd confound the treachery of Judas traitors.

I'd wreak havoc on the Mongols and the Kalmyks.

I'd dress Russian generals in cheap felt boots

And dispatch their go-go girls back home for good.

Then I'd take a rest under a Chechen roof in the Pankisi Gorge.

Far from Georgia I'd lay the Russian boot to rest.

And then I'd rest in peace.

It's snowing furiously. The sun is carving a white cameo.

The night is white. Furiously white.

In Ichkeria perhaps it snows on Chechen eagles.

How can I sleep?

Vainakhs

On the Lord’s window the sun drew a white cameo

In Ichkeria perhaps it is a white night ...

It is a white night and Chechen eagles are not sleeping

How can they sleep?

It is snowing and the landscape – a disused vineyard - is paling,

It is snowing and the Vainakhs are guarding the mountain peaks,

And if tonight the lightning illuminates the sky of Grozny,

How can old lions – the Caucasians - be quiet?

Alas, where are the invincible, wilful horse riders?

If only I could, I would rouse up Georgia.

Oh, I would muster an army in the Iveri meadows,

What is life if not the urge to enjoin the enemy in the contest?

What is death when the heart is filling with rage?

What is life if the enemy stripped us of honour?

If only I could I would revive Georgia,

I would surprise it with Iberian courage,

I would let the mother bells thunder in their Kartlian-Kakhetian

belfries,

And would follow Prince Cholokashvili to join up with the Vainakhs!

I would break and smash the chests of evil souls,

I would protect the beautiful daughters of the Chechens,

I would scatter the ice rocks over roses and violets,

I would breathe soul into my frozen Caucasians.

And sword-wounded, I would stir up myself with rage,

I would spill myself like sunrays over the white peaks,

I would force the avengers to dance on the tips of swords

And I would confound the dirty intentions of Judas traitors.

Uninhibited, I would wreak havoc on the Mongols and the Kalmyks,

I would dress up the Russian generals in their frockcoats and felt

valinkis[1]

And I would send their Galinkas[2] back to cold “Rasia”[3]

So that they never could come back to Kavkasia[4],

Then, in the Pankisi Gorge, I would rest under the Kisty’s[5] roof,

I would carry off the Russian boot to find its rest away from Georgia,

I would rest.

It is snowing unbearably; the sun drew a white cameo

The night is white, unbearably white,

In Ichkeria, perhaps, it snows over Chechen eagles,

How can I sleep!

This stirring, partisan and patriotic poem was a challenge and a delight to translate. Georgia and neighbouring Chechnya have suffered a series of brutal invasions and this poem is written against that historical background. Below are some footnotes to names and places mentioned in Vainakhs.

Vainakhs: The Vainakhs are a group of historical and modern people in the Caucasus who speak the Vainakh languages namely Chechens, Ingush and Georgian Kist).

Ichkeria: the historical Turkic name for a region more or less coinciding with the Republic of Chechnya.

The ‘ruined vineyard’ is a metaphor for the destruction of these regions by the Soviet Union and by Russia.

Grozny, the capital of Chechnya, was razed to the ground during the first and second Chechen wars that came in the wake of the collapse of the USSR prompting many to compare its destruction with that wreaked on Hiroshima.

Prince Cholokashvili a Georgian military commander who is one of the country’s most revered national heroes.

The Mongols and the Kalmyks are traditional enemies of the Caucasians.

I’d dress Russian generals in cheap felt boots
And dispatch their go-go girls back home for good.

These lines spring from the profound contempt that many Georgian people feel for the Russians who occupied their country; cheap felt boots are hardly ideal wear for mountainous snowy conditions; the generals were accompanied by many female ‘camp followers’.

Sarah Maguire, Workshop Facilitator

Notes on the literal translation:

[1] “boots” in Russian

[2] Russian female name

[3] “Russia” in Russian

[4]“Caucasus” in Russian

[5] Georgian Chechen

Natalia Bukia-Peters, Literal Translator