Oljas Suleimenov

What a splendid woman,
Spreading wide her arms,
Sleeps by dusty apple-tree.
Water softly hums.
In the crumble clover sated bees too hum,
On her breast, spots roam from the golden sun.

By the little channel, I ride on my horse.
What a splendid woman! Braids, in grass, are lost!
My steed, calm and old, looks, confused, aside.
Those spots of gold as a palm are wide…


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, July, 2001