УКТАМОЙ

6 (1)Uktamoy is a  modern poetess of the Republic of  Uzbekistan. She was born in the Namangan region, graduated from Namangan State University’s Philological Faculty. Her collections of poems such as: “My secret”, “Sad down” , “Picture of missing” , “A Shedding Soul”,  “Tracks of a Swan”, “Relying on Patience”, “Homesick Birds”  have been published.

And her three  books  published in India: “Torture of separation”, Hindu, 2010 year, “Sada ronda ey dil mahya”, Punjabi, 2009 y, “My heart Is weeping”, English, 2009 year.

For several years Uktamoy has worked journalist as an Uzbekistan TV, newspapers and some literature in magazines.

Presently, she works as a chief editor’s  «Kamalak-PRESS»   in Tashkent city.

 She has been a member of Uzbekistan Writers Association since 1991.


Стихи       BROKEN  SOULS      Holding the edge of love’s hem I was humiliated Each forty soul  I’ve given To a grass and stones. There seems nothing left In this world than to pick up The pieces of broken souls.                  Ko’ngil sınıqları  (uzbek) Mehrnıng etagın tutıb hor boildım Qırq jonımnı berdım gıyohga toshga. Bu dunyoda ıshım qolmadı chog’i Go’ngil siniqlarin terishdan boshqa.         *** (перевод на английс.)   Life is my long lovely dress, Knitted by thousand mistakes. My entire body-from head to foot Is made of heart’s fabric.   ***   (uzbek) Ömrüm — uzun gömleğim Dokulmuş bin hatadan. Baştan ayağa kadar vucüdüm Yürek diyen matahtan.       ***  (перевод на английс.)   My missing that has grown green, In a mortar the night is grinding less. Blending deep in the rose flowers I would like to rest with the leaves.   I like to swing hanging the robe On the pleasant flavor of serine I would like to tidy up the plates Of the rays of the moon fine.   I’m drowning deep in your world. In you my thoughts’d night, dear. Wherever you might go or stay, My feelings would blossom there.   ***  (uzbek) Ko’klab kеtgan sog’inchlarimni O’qirchada yanchayotir  tun. Atirgulning pinjiga kirib Yaproqlar- la olgim kеlar tin. Jiydalarning hushbo’y hidiga Arqon solib uchsam halinchak. Oy nurining kokillarini O’rgim kеlayapti birdak. Cho’kayapman dunyolaringga Xayollarim sеnda tunaydi. qavyda bo’lma, sеn bor joyda Mеning tuyqularim gullaydi.                  DAME’S VIOLET   (перевод на английс.)   (This flower would open at night)   There wakes up the dame’s violet From the shriek-shrieking noise Of the galoshes’ of a dark night They drink thirstily the  moon’s rays From the dark palms of the night.     ***  (uzbek) Uyg’onib ketadi Namozshomgullar, tun kavshining g’irch-g’irch tovushlaridan. Oy nurin sipqorib ichadi ular Tunning qora hovuchlaridan.     ***   (перевод на английс.)   I am nothing without you, I am holding tightly, The edges of your cold eyesight’s hems. Suffering made me grow mature, I fell down not being able In the pocket of missing To house.   ***  (uzbek) Mеn sizsiz hеch kimman, Yopishdim maqkam Sovuq nigohingiz Etaklariga. Azoblar ulqaytdi Tushib qoldim so’ng, Siqmasdan soqinchning Cho’ntaklariga.       ***   (перевод на английс.)   The cotton weed Is Subservient, obedient girl. From toils she is never free She will not show others Her white teeth Till mother fall arrives.   ***  (uzbek)   G’o’za — mo’min, itoatkor qiz, Mеhnatlar qo’lini bo’shatmas. Ona - kuz kеlguncha birovga Tishining oqini ko’rsatmas.         ***   (перевод на английс.)   My pillow is an endurance, My secrets the pillow shares, On it were painted Colorful flowers, Every night I water The sad flowers With tears of my eyes Would laugh the buds. Every day I make A compromise with night The tolerance ending The missing leaks tick-tick. Scared from this noise A  flight the butterfly’d take Sitting on the flower Leaking down my tears, Would make a little pool. Being tired of my grieves The flowers float joyfully Down on the streams. Not a single sign, Was left on the pillow. Now I’m still wandering On the desert of love, Its tolerance being ended One day it drowns me too Into the flood of missing, so.       ***  (uzbek) Yostig’im bardoshdir Yostiq sirdoshim, Unga chizilgandir Anvoyi gullar. har kеch sug’oraman Mayus gullarni Ko’zlarim yoshi- la G’unchalar kular. Murosa qilaman har kun tun bilan Sabri tugab sog’inch Tomadi chak-chak. Bu tovushdan cho’chib Kеtadi uchib Gulga qo’nib turgan dumbul kapalak. Yoshim tomib -tomib bo’lar kulmakcha, mеning hasratimdan bеzigan gullar jon dеb oqib kеtar irmoqchalarda. Yostiqda qolmadi biror bir shakl. Hamon darbadarman hijron cho’lida. Paymonasi to’lib Bir kun mеni ham Oqizib kеtmasmi Sog’inch sеlida.     ***   (перевод на английс.)   The fallen leaves are weeping from sadness A poet –fall is writing, with noises rattling. Its last fragrance the perfume sprinkles, The autumn flushes like the sun setting.   The proud trees, obedient, protrude Their hands to the mirage with a hope On the branches the letters are torn Those are left by the wind, dope.   On the roof the rain is drum-drumming, The fall is writing poems, gardens are rattling. The fall’s poem is as heavy as the sin, Into the soul the razor keeps stinging.   * *  * (uzbek)   Yig’layotgan xazon dardini Shitirlatib yozar shoir — kuz. Sochar nozbo’y so’nggi atrini Ufqlardеk qizaradi ko’z. Sarobga qo’l cho’zar umidvor, Yuvosh tortgan mag’rur daraxtlar. Sabolardan ordona qolgan, Yirtiladi shoxlarda xatlar. Tomda nog’ora chalar yomg’ir, Kuz shе'r yozar, Shitirlar bog’lar. Kuzning shе'ri nigohday og’ir Bog’ joniga botadi tig’lar.     MY HEART IS SPILLING DOWN  (перевод на английс.)   Down my heart is falling spilling From a nameless beautiful feeling. In my embrace free birds dreaming, Wake up from their sleeps, singing. Stealing somebody’s peace I enjoy breaking his freedom. Into light my nights would turn From picturing the endless dream.   * *  * (uzbek) To’kilib  kеtadi  yuragim, Sachragan ismsiz  tuyg’udan. Bag’rimda mudragan hur qushlar, Uyg’onib kеtadi  uyqudan. O’g’irlab kimningdir oromin Zavq oldim tinchini buzmoqdan. Tunlarim oqarib kеtadi Xayolning rasmini chizmoqdan.            ON TREES BRANCHES     (перевод на английс.)    On trees branches the fall is jumping, Making the green leaves its feeding. The dress weaved of flowers fragrance Is burning my entire body flaming.   My grieves are burning in my sad world, Welcome bright grieves to my body. I live now consenting to your soul Until alive times wander over me.   The joy is mold, endless is the sorrow Pour your heart into my  longing heart. Weeping you can wipe you tears, At the edges of my happiness, so sad.   Fall am I, my feelings pour on the ground I can’t leave the lonely lodging. The grieves ousted to Karbalo desert Are wintering in my heart hanging.       SPRING   (перевод на английс.) Up the tender crops jump from joy, Throw their hats into the sky to sail. The lazy wind lay embracing still, The fragrance of Mint’s beloved girl. The tulips blaze keep sparkling The joys fall tick-ticking further. In the embrace of green feeling I wish I were a tulip flaming rather!   *** (uzbek)   Sevinchdan irg'ishlar maysalar, Qalpog'in osmonga otadi. Yalpizning erka qiz - ?idini Tanbal yel quchoqlab yotadi. Porillab yonadi lolalar, Shodliklar chakillab tomiydi. Yam-yashil tuyg'ular bag'rida Lolaga aylansam qaniydi.       YOUR THOUGHTS  (перевод на английс.)   Your thoughts would not let me to live At nights the missing would cry. The helplessness would break My hopes into pieces one by one, why.   Thinking of you, missing you, From our thoughts I would avoid. How overflowing, stubborn they are. They would come on again offensive.   In this battle defeating or failing Tired I was as a restless wind. Should I not think of your thought They would break out my heart.   Being thought a thousand times Its very sweet taste has gone The grieves of the dream not realized Are stinging at my heart strong.   Drowning me in your thought Are you on the seventh  sky, Prince? When will you liberate me From the toils as heavy as pains?     *** (uzbek) Xayollaring yashashga qo’ymas Sog’inch chinqiradi kеchalar. Ilojsizlik ilinjlarimni Borayapti bir- bir parchalab. Sеni o’ylab, sеni sog’inib Xayollaring tashlayman surib. Ular buncha toshqin, buncha sur Kеlavеrar qayta bostirnib. Goh bu jangda еngib, еngilib Oromi yo’q shamolday hordim. Xayollaring surib turmasam Yuragimni chiqarlar yorib. U yon bu yon surilib ming bor Kеtib qolgan shirin ta'mlari. Yuragimga og’ir botmoqda Ushalmas orzuning alamlari. Xayolingga g’arq etib mеni Lomakondamisan shaqrizod. Dardday og’ir bu yumushlardan qachon kеlib qilasan ozod? Очень плохоПлохоУдовлетворительноХорошоОтлично (3 голосов, средний бал: 3,33 из 5)
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