2nd-year Master’s student, Namangan State Pedagogical Institute, Namangan region
Abstract
This article analyzes the multifaceted creative activity of one of the prominent representatives of Uzbek literature — Hamid Olimjon. It highlights the poet’s contributions to literature, drama, translation, and public affairs. The paper discusses his poetic mastery, his skillful use of folk oral traditions in artistic works, and his role in the development of Uzbek literature. Moreover, Hamid Olimjon’s works are evaluated as the beginning of a new stage in the history of national literature and as bright examples of the harmony between humanism and artistry.
The ocean of poetry is full of pearls and gems, and one of the finest divers who gathered these treasures was Hamid Olimjon — the “singer of happiness.” Despite his short life, he left a remarkable mark in literature through his poems, dramas, epics, and translations, as well as his masterful adaptation of folk epics. Whether he wrote about homeland, freedom, or love, his artistic words carried deep beauty and emotion, making him one of the most beloved poets of Uzbekistan. His works continue to serve as an example and a “school of mastery” for literary scholars and young writers alike.
Epics
Hamid Olimjon’s poetry is characterized by national spirit, sincerity, and purity. His “Zaynab va Omon” (Zaynab and Omon) develops traditional Uzbek epic themes in a new poetic form. Another of his famous epics, “Oygul bilan Baxtiyor” (Oygul and Baxtiyor), written in 1930, is among the finest romantic and modern Uzbek epics. It not only tells the story of pure love and devotion but also conveys the ideals of humanity, patriotism, and justice of that era. The poet’s epics promote love for the homeland, admiration for beauty, and respect for the working people.
Poems and Collections
His poetry collections — “Tong nafasi” (Breath of Dawn), “Sevgi haqida qo’shiq” (Song About Love), and “O‘zbekiston” (Uzbekistan) — stand out for their artistic depth, emotional sincerity, and lyrical richness. Through his heartfelt lines, Hamid Olimjon captured the sorrows and joys of the people, earning the title of a “true national poet.” His language is simple yet expressive, filled with vivid imagery and musical rhythm. He skillfully used proverbs, idioms, and poetic metaphors.
> “Na bo‘lg‘ay bir nafas men ham yanog‘ing uzra xol bo‘lsam,
Labing yaprog‘idan tomgan ki go‘yo qatra bol bo‘lsam.”
These lines from his “Ghazal” demonstrate his poetic craftsmanship, expressing the lover’s willingness to become even a tiny beauty mark on the beloved’s cheek. Such lines reflect the elegance of classical Eastern poetic tradition — the metaphor of the nightingale and the rose, the imagery of nature expressing human feelings, and the personification of wind as a symbol of longing.
Dramaturgy
Hamid Olimjon also made valuable contributions to Uzbek dramaturgy. His plays “Zebuniso”, “Semurg‘”, and “Parizod va Bunyod” were major successes in their time. In “Zebuniso” (1938), the poet depicted the life of the 17th-century scholar and poetess Zebuniso Begim, portraying her struggle for freedom and justice. The play emphasizes themes of women’s liberation, intellectual freedom, and moral integrity.
> “Meni zanjirga soling, ammo fikrimni emas,
So‘zimni bo‘g‘ing, ammo yuragimni emas.”
These powerful lines evoke the spirit of freedom and courage. Through Zebuniso, Hamid Olimjon expressed the voice of the enlightened, free-minded Uzbek woman of his time — a fighter against ignorance and oppression.
Translations
Hamid Olimjon also enriched Uzbek literature by translating masterpieces of world literature. During a politically restrictive period when free thought was dangerous, he found a creative way to express himself through translation. He translated excerpts from A. S. Pushkin’s “Dubrovsky”, “The Captain’s Daughter”, “The Bronze Horseman”, and “Ruslan and Lyudmila”; M. Yu. Lermontov’s “The Demon” and “The Singer”; and N. A. Nekrasov’s socially themed poems. He also translated revolutionary works by Maxim Gorky.
Olimjon’s translations are remarkable for preserving artistic beauty while adapting the rhythm and emotion of the originals into the Uzbek poetic tone. His translation of Pushkin’s “Eugene Onegin” exemplifies his mastery of language and poetic style. Through his translations, he connected Uzbek literature with world culture and broadened the intellectual horizons of his people.
Literary Community and Social Activity
In the 1930s–1940s, Hamid Olimjon was one of the central figures in Uzbekistan’s literary scene. He was active in literary gatherings, discussions, and critical meetings. He worked for “Sharq Yulduzi” (Star of the East) magazine and played a key role in founding the Union of Writers of Uzbekistan. Under his initiative, literary contests were organized in journals such as “Yosh Gvardiya”, “Guliston”, and “O‘zbekiston adabiyoti va san’ati”.
He also supported young writers and promoted the growth of Uzbek-language literature, inspiring others to express national pride through their creative works.
Conclusion
Although Hamid Olimjon’s life ended at the peak of his creativity, his literary heritage brought a new era to Uzbek literature. In his short life, he made significant contributions as a poet, playwright, translator, and public figure. After Uzbekistan gained independence, his name was immortalized — streets, schools, and literary awards were named in his honor. This is a reflection of the deep respect and love the Uzbek people have for their national poet. His name and spirit live on in the hearts of future generations.
Turg‘unpo‘latova Madina A’zamjon qizi — born on March 25, 2002, in Uychi district, Namangan region. She graduated from School No. 26 in Uychi and later earned her bachelor’s degree in Uzbek Language from Namangan State University. She is currently a 2nd-year Master’s student at Namangan State Pedagogical Institute. Madina is passionate about literature, and her articles have been featured in mass media. Her goal is to become a highly qualified professional and share her knowledge with future generations.
It’s one of the oldest metaphors and it should be, since the job is never done in either case. After six years of formal study in philosophy, which followed more than a decade of religious indoctrination, I always wrongly believed I understood what it meant to “know thyself.” I probably did. But one must account for denial. No is often an overlooked necessity. I learned that when one joins a Buddhist monastery the first thing they hand you is not a manuscript of the Dhammapada, or any other scroll full of teachings. It’s a broom. I believed I had it figured out.
I took a week off, and the first few days were working; spent; spent working. I cleaned the toilets, but I failed, because I needed cleansers. I cleaned the tiles in the bathrooms, but this necessitated a new need. More failure. But things were cleaner. I vacuumed. I needed the machine for that; more needs: more failure. But things were cleaner. Dishes. Laundry. Folded clothes. Swept the hardwood floors. Wiped down the counters. Dusted the shelves. Brought out the window cleaner and did the windows. I wiped clean the framed pictures in the office, the place where poetry does not begin, but the place it passes through, on its way from wherever it once was, to wherever I was, and onto wherever a reader was reading it. I have pictures of others, for inspiration, perhaps, or just for the pure aesthetics of it, on the walls of that office. After some blue spray and some wiping, Charles Bukowski never looked better. Ezra Pound was never more clear. I did the sheets, and wished one could do the same with the sheets in the printer: just wash it all away and start over, leave new stains, with more beautiful patterns, patterns more indicative of life-making or love-making, and less indicative of waste.
It all looked very good as I walked about the place, though realizing it is never done, but realizing the joy and peace I experienced in just doing it. For 48 hours I held my metaphorical broom, and had found my place in my monastery.
Something felt incomplete still the same; something felt still; something felt the same. After cleaning off the glass that housed the framed images and art I moved on to the windows. And then I looked in the mirror. And I realized, my work here is not only unfinished, but that I had hardly begun.
It was a very dirty mirror, it still needed cleaning, but only when I looked into it. The surface was fine.
