«The soul exults and sings,

Exults and doesn’t wait for rest …

Soul, without being spent on bad,

Will serve people and the country ».

Z.Moldagaliev.

Zhuban Moldagaliev is the known Kazakh poet, the national Kazakh writer, the winner of the State award of the Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic. His native land is an aul of Zhilandy of Taipaksky area of the West Kazakhstan. Here he was born on October, 5th. 1920 in the family of the peasant-poor man. «The father has died early, – wrote Zhuban in the autobiography, I don’t remember him …». To the boy wasn’t also year when his father has died. Mother remained with four children. The need and hunger became constant companions of this family. Very much early Zhuban should be learned that such death: in lean years have died elder brothers and sisters. Hunger didn’t allow to sit up on one place. In search of happier share the Moldagaliev family moved from place to place.

All these terrible years of deprivations and wanderings an echo will respond later in his verses. But light stream the image of mother joins them. Mother Zeryp from the birth waspoet: she knew by heart much from the Kazakh epos. She has opened the fantastic world of poetic legends before Zhuban:

«I greedy drank story about ancient heroes,

Being typed with soul the same fire,

Mother laid them to me before evening at times,

Covered carefully them me …»

Having endedseven year, Zhuban has arrived in the Ural agricultural technical school. Walked the streets, on which went Pushkin, Zhukovsky, Dal`, Shevchenko, Gabdulla Tukai, Saken Seifullin. Acquaintance to names and creations of the great writers who have visited this edge, has affected further his creative biography.

When the Great Patriotic War has begun, Zhuban Moldagaliev served in army, in artillery armies. All war of Zhuban has passed from the first till last day, at first the fighter, then the assistant to the political leader, the commissioner of the battery. In 1942 as beginner writer who had the publications still before war (he has started to be printed since 1939), he have directed to pass the further service in the front newspaper «For the Native land», later renamed in «Front truth». Till the end of war of Zhuban was the military journalist.

Z.Moldagaliev’s poetry became one of the brightest pages of the Kazakh literature which have reflected poetic annals of the people`s life, displayed the past and the steppes present. Z.Moldagaliev’s poetry which has merged in single whole, became property of national culture of Kazakhstan.

Pass days, pass years, but poetry of Zhuban remain in memory of descendants. In the West Kazakhstan State University annually pass «Zhubanov`s readings». In Uralsk the monument-bust in honor 80 year from the date of the birth of Zhuban Moldagaliev is established, his name names school №2. In the homeland is put the monument of Zhuban, the Regional Scientific Universal Library carries his name. Kazakhs are proud that the nation had such poet, as Zhuban Moldagaliev.

I AM KAZAKH!

I am Kazakh, I from the cradle have tasted bitterness of life…

I died and was born one thousand times…

I laughed, and light arose from darkness.

Cried, and tears flew from eyes of the sun …

I am Kazakh, I am immortal heart, in which,

As the child in a parent womb native,

Everything, with all immense, boundless open space

The steppe finds room. Also becomes me…

I am a zhigit who has tested many in the life,

Defiantly sight directing for clouds,

And I`m a child, whose shape doesn`t see shines

In the cradle to which centuries were inclined…

I was born such, but the descendant of whom I?

Flesh I am Sak, or am Hun I am offspring of a straight line?

I can generation of the Sky the live?

The brave wolf was my ancestor sung by war!

Everything, nomad, he extracted hands,

But has left legends a wise precept.

From it my character, as a stone on a stone,

And my wrinkles – that of tears his run…

I am Kazakh, I have tasted from the cradle bitterness of life…

I died and was born one thousand times…

I laughed, and light arose from darkness.

Cried, and tears flew from eyes of the sun …

But from ashes there I was,

Directing at the enemy amazed fear!

Rose the monster multy- headed,

Each time repeating one: “I am Kazakh!”

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