Реферат: Степи Казахстана
How to sing of the immense expanses what wordsto find in order to tell about the pale steppe beauty about the sinceregenerosity of my people about its age-old wisdom and kindness?
…According to an ancient legend in immemorialtimes the great Kazakh steppe was stroken by anunprecedented drought people hunger and death. There remained nothing living inthe steppe everything around was dead. A lonely traveler who lost his way couldneither slake his thirst satisfy his hunger. Only in one hearth fire hardlygleamed a sure sign of life. An emaciated old man welcomed the guest with kindwords and offered him the rests of a thin soup.
The stranger was astonished by his actionbecause the old man welcomed him as the dearest guest giving him his last foodthereby dooming himself to sure death. But being a stranger in this steppe he couldn t know that the old man couldnt act otherwise couldn t break the sacred law ofhospitality.
Yes it s legend but what a deep meaning isconcealed in it what a selfless goodness and unselfishness it goes about…
Thesteppe is the keeper of age-old folk customs the treasury of wisdom of all generations which lived here. The steppe does never disclose its secretsto the weak unimaginated ungifted it always tries itssons with severe snouw-storms biting merciless windsheavy showering heat thirst endless distances.
In the boundless steppes one often comes acrossdzhantak a leguminous plant (Alhagi)which endures intense heat of about 60 C and sand-storms because the length ofits roots reaches 40 m.Inorder to live in the steppe and not be a stranger in it the man must also takehere deep roots which will give him strength and faith.
…The Kazakh people will never forget how theancient town Otrar which long months resisted theiron hordes of the bloody Genghiz-Khan was seized. Atraitor the son of a man respected by everyone opened the town s gates. But howcould a viper be born from a falcon? As it turned out he has been taken faraway from his native town as a boy and returned as a grown man not rememberinghis kinship not knowing its customs.
Thesteppe is our great teacher. Since olden days our fate is shaped in our nativeland. If Your land where You havebarefoot run all over every nook isn t dear toYou if You don t honour the laws of Your people and don t love Your homethen You live for nothing on earth: Your heart will shrivel You soul willbecome callous and Your land will never reward You with its bounties beauty andabundance.
Dearreader open this album and You will see boundless blue distances floods ofrivers and lakes snow-white mountainpeaks blooming gardens and tilled fileds You willhear the dombra s low melodies about the beauty ofthe Kazakhstan steppe about the kindness and generosity of my people.
Ученика 10 А Класса ТоропчанинаАндрея