The pain burns in my consciousness
 By a fresh disturbed wound:
 Why is your shape, Khan Tengri,
 Bewitched by a gloomy fog?
 Seeing your silhouette torn apart.

 My heart is beating all the more strongly,
 As if at a pillory, wild villains beat the slave…
 Tell me, ancient and mighty:
 How do you avoid burdensome light,

 Blackened by a wave of heavy clouds,
 Why does your bottom poplar turn yellow before the autumn rain?
 Why is it so sad?

 Open the secrets, two-humped top,
 Deep and long truthfulness!
 Free wind brings to you powerful screams
 From the beautiful valleys.
 Clouds are breaking off above you,
 It's splashing a surf of new life…

 Why is your shape, Khan Tengri,
 Bewitched by a gloomy fog?
 Seeing your silhouette torn apart.