Dear Friends, please meet a wonderful Uzbek poet, HALIMA AHMEDOVA.
The world has become colder
Like the heart
That disappointed in false-faced friends…
Granular snow falls slowly, slowly down …
The night multiplies the frozen shadow
of the good dream to the frosty wind…
Having a bad cough
The dawn is breaking
with a piece of ice in its whistle.
And the window of the empyrean
Frowning opens to the glacial world.
There is nothing but darkness in it,
Distressfully crawls my hopeful sight.
I look around and see left and right
Only waving wings ravens enjoy …
Oh, what would they celebrate, singing
In the language of severe frost?
Behind my window gloomy life glissades.
A skating-rink is full of happy children,
As if they’re excited at this game.
Fortunately they are not aware
That life is like skating overall.
A worn-out wool scarf on her head
A woman passes by with heavy bags,
In the apple of her red-rimmed eyes
There is a secret stolen from death treasury.
She sells old books at the final stop,
The books have turned yellow like her life.
She calls buyers everyday incessantly
But people passing by pay no regard,
Laying her books out like a cloth
She’s not tired looking far or near.
No man approaches her to buy a book
Though it’s about to fall evening twilight.
Keeping an eye on her I think now:
Maybe she wants to become sunset.
Possibly she bargains with the death
Justifying that she sells her books.
The old woman passes over in silence,
The world also becomes even colder.
Frost draws abstract shapes on the window.
My soul, the soul that forgot what love is
Very much looks like the old woman’s
Unsold yellowed books, which are too old.
The world has become very, very cold.