Day by day, year by year,
Life passes me quietly near.
I no longer greet the morning light,
Youthful strength has taken flight.
The river valleys did not rise –
They lie in sand, beneath dull skies.
Where green once ruled in gentle sway,
Now reeds in shadows dance and play.
Across Kazakhstan’s steppes and plains,
No more gazelles in bounding lanes.
The roadside marmot, still and shy,
No longer watches dust clouds fly.
The Aral and Caspian seas at night
Gaze at the ocean in plaintive light.
Their former power is now no more –
A strength Baikal had not dreamed before.
People have forgotten, it seems,
That Mother Kazakhstan once lived in dreams.
They did not dwell in concrete halls,
But roamed the vastness with open souls.
