Uktamoy

UKTAMOY, poetess, journalist, was born in Namangan. She works for “Rural economy of Uzbekistan” magazine. She has several books of poetry to his credit.

***

I paid a moral damage for unjust offence of one person
For the sake of torture
and separation
I will bring an action
against you, Love.
My moon-face has
turned yellow
in alienation,
whiteness of my hair’s
sign of distress.
Will you be paying
at long nights
for my roasted wail
I found in the hell,
If you are against me
all of your complaints -
to your king – you may tell.
Now pay for
my suffering,
I will ask punishment
from gentlemen of the robe.
Now I will burn
your heart and soul
never beg for mercy
never hope.
In my eyes impatiently
revenge is blazing,
You kindled the world,
and heart is flaming.
I want to see you
in fire for a while.
If you’ve neither goods
Nor life to pay,
To my bosom
let them send you
into exile.

As yet
Still there’s a clean spring no one tasted,
Dreams are sleeping that are yet unseen.
Impassable ways’re waiting devastated,
Giants call on from the mountain.
Steppes turn yellow over a vagrant life,
Joy that under forty days will bear.
In the hollow of an empty tree
Truth is living always with fear.
The world’s a ship with sorrow and concern,
Happiness may hold you in respect.
There are many good men in killer world
They haven’t come across with you as yet.

IN THE MOUNTAIN
There isn’t noise
of auto in this place,
Draught is hardly
seen in solemn still,
It tickles boastful
trees with warm embrace,
Silence lays
its quilt in lofty hill.
These mountains
Look as if lazy camels,
Cloud – traveler is
a water pan.
Seasons – widows
Encircle it all over,
So, a thousand years
relaxes a caravan.

Translated by Azam Abidov

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