1. প্রচ্ছদ
2. সাহিত্য

OH, MY FRIEND 

 

Oh, my friend,

To be honest, I cannot understand you.

We talk to each other in different languages.

You are always saying something I don’t know

And I always answer: “We are colleagues!”

 

Oh, my friend,

Race and language do not matter for us

Even social status is not important.

I know that you are also proud with me,

You recite poems of Mashrab by heart.

 

I read works of Goethe for you,

Verses by Pushkin always make us cry.

Dumbadze, O Henry, and Makhtumkuli…

I recite ghazels of Navoi so high.

 

Staring with astonishment in your picture,

Even though you do not know who I am,

You follow my words only with silence

And you pray God to ask for a safe world.

 

Either in Azeri, either in Turkish

Or in English language you send your hello.

Oh, my friend,

I thank you bending my stubborn head down

In the destinations of our pure love.

 

We have the same goal and the same dream,

We are on the way for the same destination.

We both are sharing the same world to live

Saving this world is our ambition.

 

Oh, my friend,

May we be always proud,

I hope our children will follow our path.

We have pure dream and greatest goal

Because we possess the greatest heart.

 

Oh, my friend,

I thank you bending my head down…

 

EPISODES OF NIGHT

 

Grasshoppers chirp with a loud voice

As if Tashkent is being boiled in bowl.

There, far away, with seductive look

Some prostitutes are smoking cigarette.

 

Cars are flooding in the magistral

They pause a little without any aim.

From Nexia up to Nissan you may see

Smoke of cigarette is swallowed by fate.

 

Returning from work, hurrying to home

People are on the road whose shoulders in pain.

They think about sorrows and life problems

However, all their thinking is in vain.

 

Somewhere an infant is crying nonstop

Maybe he was also abandoned by someone.

Maybe his mother now holding a cup of wine

Sharing her kisses to another man.

 

Someone is crying and praying for God

Hoping that Almighty will hear his words.

Maybe it is the very day written by his fate

In which all his sins will be forgiven.

 

Something broke down accidentally

The life of complaint came to its end.

Night, why your embrace is full of sadness?

I thank God that I have reached the dawn.

 

 

RAIN

 

Rain,

You may rain,

Wash this dirty world,

Wash the street of hatred,

Street of envy,

And the evil of our souls.

You may rain,

Let the earth be clear,

Let the tulips blossom in the embrace of hatred,

Never let children to cry in pain,

And wash the hands of ugliness,

Wash the throat of those whose tongue is poisonous,

Rain!!!

Expel the odds to the middle of nowhere,

So that they understand who they are.

May the world be beautiful,

May it be full of fragrance.

May stars never fade in the sky,

Rain,

Come with hope in every drop,

Actually, peace is the greatest joy.

Rain,

Oh, my rain,

Rain nonstop.

 

 

Sharipova Zuhro Sunnatovna (Zahro Shamsiyya) was born on April 9, 1969 in Nurota district, Navoi region of the Republic of Uzbekistan. Poet. His first poems were published in Gulkhan magazine in 1987. Over the years, his poems have been widely published in prestigious newspapers, magazines, anthologies and almanacs in different countries of the world. Canada, Croatia. Publications of America, Turkey, Azerbaijan, Dubai, Tajikistan and Russia translated the poet's poems into their native languages...