Я, Фарида Исмаиловна — учитель английского языка в АУВК ШГ №6 г.Бишкек, увлекаюсь переводом стихов кыргызского поэта, акына импровизатора Барпы Алыкулова. Так как до этого никто не переводил песни великого поэта, настоящего таланта и наследия кыргызского народа на английский язык, мой научный руководитель профессор Зина Караева увидела во мне того самого человека который, достоин этой чести и я решила что кто то должен этим заняться и переводить его стихи с кыргызского на английский язык. Я также увлекаюсь ручным искусством создания цветов из разных материалов. Это занятие которое помогает мне увидеть красоту этого Мира через цветов в наши неспокойные, трудные дни в беготне за чем то неизвестным.
I am an English language teacher at school No. 6 in Bishkek, Farida Ismailovna, very passionate about translating poems by the Kyrgyz poet, akyn and improviser Barpy Alykulov. Since no one had previously translated the songs of the great poet, the real talent and heritage of the Kyrgyz people into English language, my supervisor Professor Zina Karaeva saw in me the very person who is worthy of this honor and I decided that someone should do this hard job and translate his songs from Kyrgyz into English. I am also interested in the handmade art of creating flowers from different materials. This is an activity that helps me to see the beauty of this World through flowers on our restless, hard days, us running after something unknown.
“My Belle”BarpyAlykulov
The face has its beauty when it is bright
With only belt on, the waist looks right
My beloved beauty is dear for everyone
My song will glorify her nice sight
Being upset of Pauper pain
Causing for my unhappy soul
Poverty cannot face against
the power of my abundant love
Without announcement seems I can’t
ceasing my passion to you at all
Being hankered to my Belle
Ain’t you afraid of the pain?
Can the singer Barpy escape
the passionate love’s and desire chain!
Your lips like a ruddy flower
Coming into bloom my Belle
My heart gone through the flame
at one glance, it seems my Belle
Your hair is as silk
ofMargalan my Belle
Your love is as a wish
ofa child my Belle
Make a flowerbed out of dry,
withered desert of my heart gale
Your motions are so gentle
Like a poplar bough my Belle
You move like in a meadowland
shrub and willow tree my Belle
How can I explain the truth I have
The inner hidden truth my Belle
Translated by Farida Zhailobaeva, checked by Zina Karaeva