Дневник

I recently received one of my earlier stories  “This Side of the River” from Wisconsin, Superior (USA). The story was translated into English by Jason and Aydina Sivertsen. The translation was timed to my birthday. Therefore, I am very pleased to offer it to the readers.

(Недавно я получил один из своих ранних рассказов (“Доверие”) из Сьюпириора, Висконсин (США). Рассказ на английский язык перевели Джейсон и Айдина Сивертсены. Перевод был приурочен ко дню моего рождения. Поэтому я с большим удовольствием предлагаю его читателям. МуМур.)

This Side of the River

Story

by Musa Murataliev

Sleep still clouded Zhakyp’s head, but he got up, dressed himself, and taking the double-barreled shotgun from the wall, went down from the yurt. With his eyes barely open, Zhakyp almost tripped on Uchar, who was curled up in a ball at the entrance. Half asleep, she seemed to be a stump of wood from who knows where.
The dog leapt up, leisurely stretched, and with her tail wagging began jumping at the legs of her owner, sending the message: “Look! I am ready to go wherever you want!”
Shivering from the cold, Zhakyp looked at the sky. It had only just begun to lighten. It’s time! Zhakyp switched the gun to his other shoulder, and going around the yurt, set off towards the forest that encircled the ayyl, a village-like encampment of yurts, on all sides like a solid black wall.
Uchar trotted after her master. At times running ahead of Zhakyp, at times lagging behind him, she zigzagged among the trees, continually sniffing, checking if any strangers were in her territory during the night, and whether they left behind tracks or scents anywhere.
Zhakyp never brought Uchar with him. Hunting with her was a real hassle. She would run aimlessly here and there around the forest, and only scare away the prey. If she happened to fall behind, she would rush ahead at such a breakneck speed that it would startle anyone into thinking: “Is it a wild beast?” Uchar probably understood this and only accompanied her master up to the designated place, widely overgrown with buckthorn. Stopping here, she usually