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?

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