I’m not into much of a prayer,
I’m not a believer. I dream.
I’m dreaming of wind in my hair —
I go out to catch the gleam
of a star, which is thousand years,
lightning years from me far away.
Steppe wind whistles into my ears —
reminding that I’ve so much to say,
such tremendous lot of ideas,
thousand tunes to play,
thousand songs I made up,
thousand songs I can write
And here, I turn to prayer
asking Lord to show his might.
I’m not asking for fame and glory,
nor for power and neither for wealth.
Only one thing makes me feeling sorry —
Send me someone like myself.
A playmate for playing my games with,
to shout halloo cross the stepp
one to another; to try our teeth
one on another, to step
one to another’s step.
To send our voices freely
to sing with each other in tune —
to be soulmates, who really
get one another so soon —
with no much words to gather,
with nothing between us, but trust
for singing in tune with another
is what makes us content and just.
Together we make real power —
we sing for the world to hear.
«Mine» is way smaller than «our»
We are one for another here.
My Lord, let my playmate singer
forget I am his closest friend —
and stub. Let me suffer the stinger
— he’s jealous, I’ll understand.
Forgive him, my Lord. Forever
he got the loneliness, his doom —
Lord send him another playmate, —
like me, — to catch up the tune.
With respects to Oljas Suleymenov, I could not find his poem in English, so I just wrote another one with the same general idea.