The Head of Hadji Murat
The Head of Hadji Murat
I look upon the severed head before me,
I hear somewhere the distant battle’s roar,
And blood runs freely over the bare stones
Through villages at peace no more.
And sabres that have seen much action, whirl,
Honed razor-sharp upon the rocks,
And hillmen loyal t the Caucasus
Gallop along the mountain tracks
Then to that gory head I put this question:
“Were you once famous in these lands,
And whose were you, to meet with such a fate
And come to gried in alien hands?”
“Hadji Murat’s was I.”
came the head’s answer,
“And I am not ashamed to say,
That I tumbles off his shoulders simply
Because I went too far astray.”
The path I chose indeed was not the best one,
Vanity brought me to this plight…”
Sadly I contemplate the erring head
Cut off in the unequal fight.
By paths that reach far out into the distance
As men up in the mountains born,
Dead of alive, back to those summits
It is our duty to return.
Translated by Alex Miller