Missing My Youth

For the Southwestern University for Nationalities

I’ve looked into the distance of time before.She was morning stars in thick fogflickering dim light.Things long past have already been forgotten;nevertheless, reality tells meshe’s close by. All of this is like it just happened.Brown memories are like an empty valley.I don’t know whose voice is in itcalling my name again and again in front of the library door.This is a poet’s Bible,the endless winter Akhmatova predicted.I’ve waited for hope beforenot knowing if the path sheltered by treesis already overgrown with lonely mossIn that time, poetry represented conscience.For this reason, I shouted at the world:I am a Nuosu man!

Fate made me choose to advocate freedomand understand why we need to defend life and rights.I believe the profound sadness of my People predestinedthat my poems would become the memories of the peoplebecause when all rocks were still in deep sleepI sipped the milk of our ancestors’ black soulsfrom the sourceAnd at that moment my life becamean offering to immortality and miracles.As I walk along the path of time, who knows how many morehitching posts the clip-clop of my horse’s hooves must passWhen I’m growing fatigued, my dreams tell me:miss your youth again and againbecause only her brilliance and beautycan make everything that has passed away immortal.