The Entire Poem

The mountains of Bech-Parma are great enough,
But my love is greater.

The glaciers that marble their tops are white,
But your breasts are whiter.

The antelope stricken by my bullet
Weeps a red blood from its wound

Which dyes with large red flowers
The field of the blowing jasmine flowers of snow.

Your arms are whiter than the jasmine flowers of snow
And your kiss is redder than the blood of the antelope.

The mountains of Bech-Parma are great enough
But my love is greater.

II
The wind screaming in the forest when the wind of Russia blows
Is milder than the desire that draws me to thee.

Your body smells richer than the resin
That weeps in the sun from slender pines.

And your mouth has more of odours
Than mint flowers throw on the air.

When you are by my side, I feel in my body,
A warmth more suave than the softest sun-rays.

And when you go away from me, my sadness
Is blacker than the lowering night black with storm.

The wind screaming in the forest when the wind of Russia blows
Is milder than the desire that draws me to thee.

Daghestan