Begziin Yavuukhulan (1929-1982)

THE SOUND OF SILVER BRIDLE

I’m waiting for my beloved.
Horses’ hooves gallop through my mind,
The night outside is silent and at peace.
And moonlight steals through the roof of the ger.

Sleep flees my orphaned pillow,
I am trapped in my crazy love.
The faint sound of a silver bridle
Startles and pleases my gentle heart

In memory of a friend

We are born into this world
During life’s vacation
And go back
When our vacation ends.

Birth and death
Come in turn like day and night.
And to be alive seems
To be a vacation.

We come to this universe,
We come in crying.
Later, when we go back,
We make others cry.

Translated and edited by Tsog Shagdarsuren and Simon Wickham Smith