Confession of an Ubykh

YURY LAKERBY
was born in Ivanovo (Russia). He graduated from Higher courses of experts and producers attached to State Committee for Cinema of the USSR.
He is author of 8 books and scenarios for five films..
 
I forget my clothes,
And weapons and language,
Only my name remains the same,
What should I spare my name for?
I recognize a nest of she-eagle,
I understand rustle of a snake,
And around me I see strange faces -
No hearth, no family!
Some - of gift,
Some - betrayed, sold,
Some - under steep crest of wave...
Deed and years are garbled
By chroniclers from outside.
Passes - in diamond brilliance,
But they are impassive, deaf.
And their names having distorted,
They compose now verses.
Snow in spring, as wine, will ferment.
Cry of river is deafening:
- Look!
Compatriots leave.
Bashlyks are tightened.
And they wander very slowly,
And water devours footmarks...
No invasion, no yoke.
There is land...
And there is no people!

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