Damdinsuren Uriankhai

A SPACE SURROUNDED BY FELT WALLS


At a crossroads on the warm earth, they plant
A space surrounded by felt walls.
They’ve made a start, they’re settling in -
Oh, my blessèd, bountiful earth!

Birds fly in lines across the autumn rains,
Fledglings migrating towards the sun.
The foolish flee, they say they will not go,
Their loving families slaughter one another.

Oh these poor ones, what will they do?
Such scant attention to reward and punishment!
My homeland, this is what you are,
The very marrow of our bones!

They think only to sit and fawn
Over the dumb rapids of a stream.
They think only to sit and fear
The river’s brutal snarl.

Below the featherfaced children
Of those poor unlettered birds,
Strange creatures are born to wander,
To peck away at these dear ones.

Riches nomads cannot grasp,
Though poverty they understand.
They stand and make an offering,
Every morning, of the very best of teas.

The threads of the silken earth’s destiny
Are woven within the space enclosed.
They’ve made a start, they’re settling in -
Oh, my blessèd, bountiful earth!

BENEATH THE PROTECTING SUN


Beneath the protecting sun,
Day comes to no harm and night comes to no harm.
I search for many years around the dusty edges.
Friends are kind from childhood and enemies kill each other.

I, beneath the protecting sun,
Stamp upon a insect, my mind full of misery.
My feebleness is tempered by my guilt,
I brandish at myself the sword of hatred.

I, beneath the protecting sun,
Sway and sway like the green grass.
I loom, I loom up like a sheer cliff,
I dessicate the truth upon the elders’ tongues.

I, beneath the protecting sun,
Circle the ger and circle the world.
I repay the kindness of the fortunate,
And, in the place of honor, I gain the world’s respect.

I, beneath the protecting sun,
Write poems like the daytime stars.
My Mongolian poems, with their sunny words,
Recall people and years, like the star of morning.

I, beneath the protecting sun,
Ask from Heaven the blessings of old age.
I ride in winter over many high passes,
Upon a horse that’s not the worse for wear.

I, beneath the protecting sun,
With my Mongol heart absorbed with others,
With my own truth, constant as time passes,
With my life and land, am unexposed to death.