translated from Russian by Olga Mexina

During mourning, the aul made rice –

weeping and chewing, recovering –

slaughtering and tossing sheep into the qazan.

We were mesmerized by this death –

while nobody else was troubled.

We played, we dangled

from the red, Chinese tractor –

we were children.

While old men wept,

resting their bodies on their canes,

we stared at the motorcycles behind the yard.

Each time I remember the smell of that rice –

I am guilty of gluttony.

The taste of death must be similar

to the taste of rice.

How cruel we are, Father!

Every grain of rice in my memory reeks of death.

In my next life, I am meant to come back as that grain of rice

I swallowed in my childhood.

aul - village (Kaz.)

qazan - large cooking pot (Kaz.)