I’ve ruined my bright life with grief and sorrow,
The wretched fate has made my efforts worthless,
Fate took by floods the books I’d written;
I could do nothing but cry after them.
Unexpected enemies surrounded us,
All our peers were scattered about;
The book we’d written for five years,
Was obliterated by the Kizilbash tribe.
Some of us have become slaves, our hands tied,
Some were left behind in sorrow and sadness,
Some were sold for profit,
Everyone was given a certain price.
Wretched fate mercilessly put me to endless cries,
The shine of my face faded away from tears,
My manuscript was taken away by the flood,
Turning the ruthless river into my enemy.
Some were left all alone,
Some won’t get enough food,
Some won’t feel enough grief,
Days and nights turned into a whimper.
Wretched fate’s torment will scorch,
Don’t take its word for granted, its devotion is forged,
Magtymguly, nothing is wrong with this word,
Fate has bent my straight stature.