You stand alone, from your friends apart.
I feel your pain and moan, it breaks my heart.
Yellow like parchment is your grieving face,
With desperation filled and torment of disgrace.
Like a discarded puppy or a wounded bird.
I see your moving lips but don’t hear a word.
Where’s the wealthy bastard you curse and wish to strangle?
We have aplenty villains — each one could kill an angel.
They have chosen to shaitan their souls to sell,
Why should it surprise us they’re not afraid of hell?
Yesterday I met the jerk, who caused you all this pain,
Selfish, vile and heartless, he’s doing it again.
Enjoying every minute of his barbaric spree,
While you suffer here, leaning against a tree.
I wish you heard my words, believed that I’m your friend,
It is the poet’s mission to love and understand.
Though my heart is broken, my soul cries out in grief.
I wish my love and poetry could bring you some relief.
1909
В оригинале на татарском: Эштән чыгарылган татар кызына
В переводе на русский язык: Опозоренной татарской девушке (Перевод В.Тушновой)