a Hill or a Steppe
When riding a seven year old Arabian horse,
It does not matter whether you are on the hills or in the steppes.
For a mature brave young man,
It does not matter whether at fifty, sixty or a hundred.
A son of a coward will be scared of a field,
The trees he sees on either side will resemble men to him,
Cowards won’t distinguish fog or dust
In the battlefield due to fear of the enemy.
Being a soldier not knowing a horse he is saddling,
Being a saint not knowing respect shown to him,
Not knowing the meaning of words during conversation,
Won’t distinguish a gathering from a melody.
A crow will be lost in the fight of hunting birds and falcons,
It won’t dare to appear near the battlefield,
In front of a hungry and furious falcon and its type,
Who won’t distinguish ducks from geese.
Magtymguly, the words coming from your tongue inspire us,
Cowards were not given turn because of the power of your words,
Whether you are skilled or not in these crafts,
What is the word you are uttering with such power?!