https://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/poems and songs of the Kara-Buura · Jumabai ata Kündölük 3.4.2enhttps://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2013/09/from-the-family.html Sat, 14 Sep 2013 20:00:00 +0600Noteshttps://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2013/09/from-the-family.html This is Cholpon. Our grandfather Jumabai Sydykov died on 11 September, at home, in his 80th year. He was buried the next day beside his father, under the apricot tree hill. He asked that the blog stay open, so that the poems are not lost with the notebook. Thank you to everyone who read him and…https://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2013/04/the-last-lesson.html Sun, 28 Apr 2013 19:00:00 +0600Noteshttps://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2013/04/the-last-lesson.html My hands do not hold the komuz like before. I told my students on Wednesday: this is the last lesson. The girl with the loaf of bread (now fifteen) asked: "Ata, who will play the first string?" I said, "You." She did not answer. She played it. We drank tea. The father came to pick her up and I…https://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2012/12/new-year.html Sun, 30 Dec 2012 19:00:00 +0600Noteshttps://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2012/12/new-year.html Eleven grandchildren came, and three great-grandchildren. The house was too small and the dog was too happy. Cholpon says there are 900 readers of this blog in six years. I said: that is one aitysh crowd. Good.https://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2012/10/autumn-at-seventy-eight.html Sun, 21 Oct 2012 18:10:00 +0600Poemshttps://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2012/10/autumn-at-seventy-eight.html The year comes to me as to an old friend, without hurry, with a basket. Here is a quince, here is a first frost, here is a morning with nothing in it. I take them all and say thank you. A man of seventy-eight has room.https://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2012/05/sixty-one-years.html Sun, 13 May 2012 17:30:00 +0600Noteshttps://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2012/05/sixty-one-years.html In May 1951 I wrote my first song, for a girl who didn't know my name. I was seventeen. Sixty-one years later I know the song, I know the girl's name, and I know why she didn't answer: she couldn't read. She is my wife. She learned to read from my letters. Cholpon says it's the best thing I have…https://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2011/12/the-song-of-the-old-tractor.html Sun, 04 Dec 2011 18:20:00 +0600Songshttps://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2011/12/the-song-of-the-old-tractor.html A funny song for the New Year concert, in the style of the old tractor-station songs: Oh my Belarus, my iron brother, you ploughed this field for thirty years. You coughed, you stopped, you started again, you were like our mother-in-law. But you are rust now at the end of the field, and we all…https://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2011/10/grandfather-s-apricot.html Sun, 09 Oct 2011 18:00:00 +0600Poemshttps://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2011/10/grandfather-s-apricot.html My father planted it in the year of the famine, when nobody planted anything. The neighbours laughed: who will eat it? Eighty years they have eaten it.https://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2011/06/my-friend-the-bee-man.html Sun, 19 Jun 2011 19:50:00 +0600Noteshttps://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2011/06/my-friend-the-bee-man.html My friend keeps bees on the other side of the hill. His father and I were boys together; we stole apples together and we were punished together. Now the son keeps the bees, and the friendship came with the hives. He says bees are like akyns: they all sing at once and the honey is the result. On…https://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2011/03/the-singing-box.html Sun, 06 Mar 2011 20:30:00 +0600Noteshttps://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2011/03/the-singing-box.html My family gave me a telephone. It is small and grey and it plays a tune when someone calls. I do not like the tune. It is not a tune, it is a sneeze. Cholpon changed it to a komuz, but the komuz sounds like a toy. Last week it rang in the middle of the aitysh rehearsal. I answered. It was my…https://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2010/09/the-shepherd-s-wedding.html Sun, 12 Sep 2010 17:40:00 +0600Songshttps://blog.attelkom.net/jumabai/2010/09/the-shepherd-s-wedding.html A shepherd from the high pasture married a girl from the village last Saturday. They asked me for a song. I had none for a shepherd, so I made one at the table, between the lamb and the tea: You counted sheep, now count the days, the days are fewer than the sheep. But a day with her is a hundred…