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Abkhazia - the Soul Country |
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Dmitry Gulia
At that time he was alone, He tried to teach his people, Dmitry wrote the alphabet And his people began to read.
Dmitry liked writing poems, He loved his country very much, He worked so hard and did the best He didn’t want to have a rest.
Dmitry Gulia was the first, Whose voice sounded in the science, too “The History of Abkhazia” he wrote, He loved his country and that his people knew.
The poet also suffered greatly, Abkhazia was his native land, But still is small, but very proud, Be my guest my dear friend.
Sukhum 2000 Dmitry Gulia
Abkhazia
Abkhazia is my native land Among steep mountains it lies The sky is high above and fine Rays of the sun so brightly shine
You want to walk in the sun Come quickly dear friend You like fruit and flowers They grow around my land
Come and see my native land If you stay for the short of time The happiest life you will here spend Such fine country you have never met
Sukhum 2000
Dmitry Gullia
The SunThe sun has been shining Million years have passed If the sky is cloudy The son will go away so fast
But the hearts of people Give us warm and light But when the sky is cloudy Your heart will shine at night
Sukhum, 2000 Abkhazia Translated by Ludmila Katsba
Dmitry Gulia
Hojando
I so like Hojando He didn’t work what shall I do? His house, pockets were great He never opened for his neighbor’s gate
He was ready only take Sheep and wheat, such was his fate
The seven sons of Hojando The same things like to do. They never helped the poor people Their hearts so little They only robbed and killed the men And it was always in their plan. Hojando disputed once with God But he forgot, he never thought, That someone stronger was in the world He didn’t know with whom fought.
His house soon was burnt by God, That was all what he had got.
Sukhum, 1999 Abkhazia Translated by Ludmila Katsba
Dmitry Gulia
The River
The river could howl and snarl It frothed in rainy day It carried into the flood What it had met in the way.
It was quietly in the countryside The river only rushed Couldn’t hide its violent strength, The river quickly passed.
But it there bridled at once By the will of a man, strange Into the tunnel it was rushed Such was not in its age.
The current the river gives the men, It has changed its own fate It is still, its no so swift The current was its own gift.
For thousand years with care free Without purpose raging, it rushed, It doesn’t snarl, it’s singing now If found the fine job at last.
Sukhum, 1999 Abkhazia Translated by Ludmila Katsba |
