I look at that Golden-Mountain
And I am reminded to know
That my Roots lie within this Land,
But who's Tongue I don't understand,
A couple of words, here and there,
Just by trying hard to compare
With the tongue I do speak right now,
Yet who's unknown to these People.
From riding Horses and Hunting
In the wide Meadows of Turan,
To Protecting and Reciting
Words of the Majestic Qur'an,
I've, Altai, become a stranger
To your Mountains, to your Rivers,
To your Music, to your Verses
And more that lies within your Hills.
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 2:27 PM UTC
I look at that Golden-Mountain
And I am reminded to know
That my Roots lie within this Land,
But who's Tongue I don't understand,
A couple of words, here and there,
Just by trying hard to compare
With the tongue I do speak right now,
Yet who's unknown to these People.
From riding Horses and Hunting
In the wide Meadows of Turan,
To Protecting and Reciting
Words of the Majestic Qur'an,
I've, Altai, become a stranger
To your Mountains, to your Rivers,
To your Music, to your Verses
And more that lies within your Hills.
