Zebo Mirzo

Zebo Mirzaeva is one of the bright voices of contemporary Uzbek poetry. She was born on December 15, 1964 in Kashkadarya region. Zebo is famous for her love poems. She published three collections of poems – “The queen of the night”, “Requital” and “Ashes of light”. Passion, originality and spiritual feelings in her poems make a reader to think of divinity. Zebo works for Uzbekistan radio, as an editor. She has recently been to India for International Festival, where Zebo Mirzaeva was acclaimed by many international poets and writers. Her poems were translated into Russian, English, French and German languages. Zebo lives in Tashkent with his son.

***

All right, you may go off…

As if wild orchids

Cry bitter tears in the moonlit night

Lip of hope will converse in whispers

Begging in your stare beam of light.

You ignore,

and pangs of love that shed

From my eyes begin to wash your track

All right, you go…

But give your heart to me

Last time to kiss for this

leave-taking’s sake…

You are worthwhile, I say, in any case,

Thanks a lot for those previous days

But never ask to stop. In fact love –life.

No end to this long story and noways!

Look, the sad moon trembles tipsily

In the bosom of a senseless night,

Having forded the river of the tortures

Probably we shall each other find?..

Say no good bye, but just in my eyes stay.

Look, in full of depression I miss.

Take my life,

And wholly take my pain,

Give your soul

only once to kiss!..

***

No, you never take me out of heart,

In your life I as the sun will shine.

Though you go to million years back, but

As the sky I call to side of mine.

To mornings I with pleasure write your name,

And proceed on leaves of buds to sleep.

No, your luck without me is lame,

Every moment missing you I weep.

I am Fire,

Sea,

the Sky

and Ray,

I go on to wrap up all your world.

Tell me:

have you chance to run away?

I shall always ask you from the Lord!

I’m the last raindrop,

The only aid,

But I hasten you to drink it try:

The latest living was left on my hand:

I want your love,

If even: when I die!..

*****

I gave the morning breeze

My life as a whole

I gave a beggar then

The last of my penny

I gave the Lord my own

Crazy soul:

The breeze went forward

And gave it to the beggar,

The beggar gathered all

And gave the Lord.

The Lord has given me

To you – mistake,

To whom you have believed me,

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