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?
(3 голосов, средний бал: 3,33 из 5)
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