The Interaction of Language and Culture in Expressing Emotions: A Comparative Analysis of English and Uzbek

Razzokova Feruza

Student of Navoi State University

Email: feruzarazzoqova663@gmail.com

Tel:+998934168907

Orcid ID:0009-0003-7975-3004

Abstract

Emotions are universal to human experience, yet the ways they are expressed in language are deeply shaped by culture. This article presents a comparative analysis of how English and Uzbek encode emotional experiences, combining theoretical insights with illustrative data. We examine linguistic forms (grammar and vocabulary), idioms and metaphors, and cultural scripts that guide emotional expression in each language. The analysis reveals both shared tendencies and key differences: English emotional discourse often emphasizes individual feelings and employs abstract or metaphorical language, whereas Uzbek discourse places greater stress on social context, direct descriptive phrases (often via possessive constructions), and culturally ritualized expressions. These differences reflect broader cultural orientations – an individualistic Anglo worldview versus a collectivistic Uzbek perspective – and manifest in everything from idiomatic usage to norms of emotional display. We discuss the implications of these findings for intercultural communication and language learning, highlighting the need for cultural competence in interpreting and conveying emotions across languages.

Keywords: emotional expression, language, culture, cultural values, low-context, high-context, cultural-pragmatic, emotional scripts, idioms, metaphors.

Introduction

Language is not merely a neutral conduit for communication; it also serves as a mirror of cultural values and worldviews. Emotions such as happiness, sadness, anger, or fear are fundamental to human life, but the manner in which people talk about and display these feelings varies markedly across linguistic and cultural communities. Every culture develops conventions for emotional expression – implicit “rules” about how one should articulate or conceal feelings in words. For this reason, studying emotion in language offers insight into the interaction between language and culture.

English and Uzbek provide a compelling cross-cultural comparison due to their distinct linguistic lineages and cultural backgrounds. English is an Indo-European language grounded in a Western, largely individualistic cultural context, whereas Uzbek is a Turkic language shaped by Central Asian and Islamic traditions that emphasize collectivist values. These differing cultural orientations suggest that the two languages may encourage different ways of talking about emotions. Indeed, English communication is often characterized as low-context and direct, prioritizing explicit verbal expression of feelings, while Uzbek communication tends to be high-context and indirect, relying more on contextual cues and shared understandings. Such differences can lead to subtle divergences in emotional discourse, from the choice of words and metaphors to the pragmatics of when and how emotions are expressed.

Despite the importance of these issues, the comparative study of emotional expression in English and Uzbek remains relatively under-explored in international scholarship. Recent studies have begun to document contrasts – for example, in the linguistic encoding of joy and sadness or in the grammatical and pragmatic strategies used to convey feelings – but a comprehensive analysis that integrates multiple levels of language (lexical, idiomatic, and cultural-pragmatic) is still needed. Addressing this gap, the present article aims to analyze how language and culture interact in the expression of emotions in English and Uzbek. By examining a range of examples and drawing on established theoretical frameworks, we seek to identify both universal patterns and culture-specific strategies in emotional expression. In doing so, we also consider the practical implications for intercultural communication and second language learning, where miscommunication of feelings can easily arise if one is unaware of the other culture’s “emotional script.”

Literature Review

Research in linguistic pragmatics and anthropological linguistics has long recognized that emotional expression is guided by culturally specific norms. As Anna Wierzbicka (1999) argues, each culture develops its own characteristic “emotional scripts” – that is, conventional patterns and expectations for how feelings should be talked about and revealed. These cultural scripts encompass not only which emotions are deemed acceptable to express in a given context, but also the linguistic forms used to do so (for example, whether one says “I am sad” or conveys sadness indirectly). Zoltán Kövecses (2000) similarly observes that while certain metaphors for emotions have a universal, embodied basis, their specific realizations are often culture-bound. In other words, people in different speech communities may all liken joy to brightness or anger to heat, but the idiomatic expressions and nuances of these metaphors can differ according to local traditions and values.

A key dimension of cross-cultural variation in emotional discourse relates to directness versus indirectness. Scholars of intercultural communication describe English-speaking cultures (especially Anglo-American) as relatively direct in verbalizing internal states, in line with an ethos of individual self-expression. By contrast, many Central Asian cultures including Uzbek are described as indirect or high-context, meaning that speakers often hint at or contextualize emotions rather than stating them bluntly. This general tendency is reflected in the languages’ typical linguistic strategies. Uzbek speakers, operating within a context of social harmony and respect for hierarchy, may choose subtle or roundabout phrases to convey negative feelings so as not to offend or disturb others. English speakers, on the other hand, are more prone to explicitly naming emotions (e.g. “I’m upset,” “She’s excited”) as a way of asserting personal experience, and they rely less on the interlocutor to infer feelings from context. It is important to note, however, that directness in one sense can coexist with indirectness in another: English discourse, for instance, sometimes uses softening devices (like understatement or tentative modal verbs) to mitigate emotional statements, while Uzbek may encode the emotion directly in a descriptive image. We will see examples of these contrasting techniques in the analysis.

Prior comparative studies of English and Uzbek support the idea that the two languages encode emotion along divergent linguistic lines. Grammatical analyses have found that Uzbek frequently expresses emotions using possessive constructions and descriptive or poetic phrasing, effectively embedding the emotion in imagery or in relation to the self (e.g. “my heart is aching”). English, in contrast, often employs straightforward adjectival predicates (“I am sad”) or chooses to express feeling-states through more cautious structures – for example, using modal verbs or impersonal constructions (“I could be happier,” “It upsets me that…”) as a way to hedge or indirectize the emotion. One study notes that English speakers tend to use a more direct emotional vocabulary (plain emotion words) whereas Uzbek speakers lean on figurative language and context to convey the same content. This aligns with observations that English allows individuals to plainly label their internal states, while Uzbek often communicates affect through metaphor, proverb, or culturally resonant allusion.

Differences in idioms and metaphors have also been documented. Cognitive linguistic research highlights that both English and Uzbek use body-part metaphors for emotions, but the specific body parts and images invoked can vary. For example, Uzbek employs the liver (jigar) as a symbol of affection and endearment – calling someone “my liver” (jigarim) denotes beloved closeness – a usage not found in English. English idioms, by contrast, overwhelmingly center the “heart” as the seat of love and compassion (e.g. to have a big heart, heartbroken), whereas Uzbek idioms distribute emotional meanings across multiple organs and natural images. Even when the same organ is used, the connotation may differ: in Uzbek ko‘ngli toza (“his heart is clean”) praises someone’s purity of soul, whereas in English “to have a big heart” implies generosity. Such examples demonstrate how cultural values get inscribed in metaphor: the English notion of a “big heart” prizes individual benevolence, while the Uzbek “clean heart” emphasizes moral integrity in a social context.

Language-specific emotion vocabulary also reflects cultural priorities. Uzbek has words for culturally salient emotional concepts that have no direct one-word equivalent in English. For instance, andisha denotes a mix of modesty, restraint, and regard for others’ opinions – essentially, an emotional-ethical norm of not overstepping bounds or embarrassing oneself (or others) in society. This concept carries significant weight in Uzbek culture. Likewise, g‘urur (pride/self-respect) and oriyat (honor, especially family honor) are deeply rooted in the Uzbek worldview. A person is expected to feel and display andisha or oriyat in appropriate situations, and these feelings are often conveyed not through explicit declaration (“I have pride”) but through behavior and subtle linguistic cues that others culturally interpret. In contrast, Anglo-American culture places higher value on individual autonomy and emotional frankness; concepts like personal freedom or privacy are salient, and English speakers are more inclined to openly discuss feelings of, say, pride or shame in personal terms. This does not mean that English lacks notions of tact or honor, but such notions are less lexicalized as specific emotion terms and more embedded in general descriptors (e.g. polite, reserved for tactful restraint). The literature thus suggests that to fully understand emotional expression, one must consider these culturally loaded terms and the expectations around them.

In sum, previous research provides a framework for examining how language and culture intertwine in emotional expression. We know that each language has its repertoire of emotion words and idioms reflective of its cultural history, and that pragmatic norms (direct vs indirect communication styles) influence how these words and idioms are used. Building on these insights, the present study will compare English and Uzbek systematically across multiple levels of expression, seeking to detail the specific linguistic mechanisms and cultural values at play.

Methodology

This research adopts a comparative linguo-cultural approach to analyze emotional expression in English and Uzbek. The study combines qualitative semantic analysis with contrastive linguistic description, using both scholarly sources and constructed examples to illustrate key points. The methodology consists of the following steps:

1. Data Collection: We gathered a broad set of emotional expressions in both languages, including:

• Lexical items: common emotion words (e.g. happy, sad, angry in English; xursand, xafa, jahli chiqqan in Uzbek) and culturally specific terms (e.g. andisha, oriyat in Uzbek).
• Idioms and metaphors: figurative expressions describing emotions (for instance, English phrases like “on cloud nine” or “feeling blue,” and Uzbek phrases like ko‘ngli ko‘tarildi – “his spirit was lifted” – or jahl otiga mindi – “he mounted the horse of rage”). These were drawn from dictionaries, phraseological compilations, and prior studies.

• Proverbs and sayings: brief sayings that encapsulate emotional attitudes or advice (e.g. English “Every cloud has a silver lining” vs. Uzbek Yig‘lagan ko‘rar, kulgan kun ko‘rar – “He who cried will see the day to laugh,” expressing hope after sorrow).
• Ritualized expressions: culturally fixed phrases used in emotional contexts such as blessings, condolences, congratulations, and apologies. For example, Uzbek condolence phrases like Sabr qiling (“Please be patient/endure,” said to someone grieving) or blessings like Ko‘nglingiz doimo to‘q bo‘lsin (“May your heart always be content”) were collected alongside their English counterparts (“I’m sorry for your loss,” “Congratulations on your success,” etc.).

2. Classification: The collected expressions were categorized into thematic groups for analysis. We distinguished positive emotions (e.g. joy, affection, pride) from negative emotions (e.g. sadness, anger, fear), and noted for each expression what linguistic form it took (simple adjective, possessive construction, idiom, etc.). We also identified the use of any salient imagery (body parts, colors, nature metaphors) and whether the expression was literal or figurative.
3. Analytical Framework: Each category of expressions was analyzed through a comparative lens. We examined the semantic content of words and idioms to uncover underlying metaphors (for instance, happiness as “up” or “light” versus “bright” or “open” in the two languages). We also analyzed grammatical aspects – such as how each language forms statements about feeling – and pragmatic usage – such as levels of directness or formality in emotional utterances. Wherever possible, we connected these linguistic features to known cultural values or norms (drawing on anthropological linguistics and cultural psychology literature).
4. Comparison: Finally, English and Uzbek findings were juxtaposed to identify commonalities and differences. We looked for potentially universal patterns (e.g. metaphors of height for positive feelings, or physical pain for sadness in both languages) as well as unique, culture-specific elements (e.g. the presence of jigar “liver” in Uzbek love idioms, which has no parallel in English). We also compared the degree of explicitness or indirectness in sample contexts – for example, how a complaint, a love confession, or an expression of sympathy might be phrased in each language – to see how cultural context influences linguistic choices.

The research is primarily qualitative and interpretative, aiming to illustrate patterns rather than to provide statistical frequencies. Example sentences were constructed or taken from literature and media in each language to ensure authenticity of usage. Throughout the analysis, references to prior studies are used to support observations and ensure that interpretations align with established knowledge. While the data includes hypothetical examples, it is grounded in real linguistic usage as documented by native speakers and existing corpora. This approach allows us to blend theoretical and empirical perspectives in exploring the nexus of language, culture, and emotion.

Data Analysis

Lexico-Grammatical Patterns in Emotion Expression

One of the first points of contrast between English and Uzbek lies in the basic linguistic structures used to express emotions. English typically uses subject–predicate constructions with adjectives or nouns to denote emotional states: for example, “I am happy”, “She feels anger”, “We were sad.” The emotion is directly attributed to the person as a state or feeling. Uzbek, while it can also use adjectival predicates (e.g. Men xursandman – “I am happy”), shows a strong tendency toward possessive and descriptive constructions in everyday emotional language. It is common in Uzbek to say things like Ko‘nglim xijil – literally “My soul is uneasy” – to express embarrassment or discomfort, or Yuragim og‘riyapti – “My heart is aching” – to mean “I am hurt” or sorrowful. In these phrases, the emotion is expressed through a noun (heart, soul) with a possessive suffix (-im for “my”) and often a descriptive verb or adjective indicating the state (aching, uneasy). The emotional experience is thus framed as something one has or that happens to one’s heart/soul, rather than something one is in a straightforward way.

This structural difference reflects a subtle divergence in construal. The English pattern “[Subject] + [copula] + [emotion adjective]” presents the emotion as a transient property of the person. The Uzbek possessive pattern, “[Possessed noun (body part or feeling)] + [state]”, can suggest the emotion is a condition affecting the person (literally, “my heart hurts” rather than “I am sad”). Such phrasing may make the emotion somewhat more externalized or embodied – tied to the heart or soul – instead of purely an abstract inner state. It also aligns with the collectivist tendency to avoid overuse of the “I” in some contexts; saying “My heart is broken” (Yuragim sindi) can sound less directly self-centric than “I am heartbroken.” Notably, English also has constructions that externalize emotions (e.g. “My heart broke,” “My blood boiled”), but these are idiomatic and somewhat poetic, whereas in Uzbek they are closer to the default way of speaking about feelings.

Another grammatical distinction is the use of modal and impersonal forms in English to modulate emotional statements. English speakers often employ modal verbs and conditional phrases to soften or imply emotional states indirectly. For instance: “I would be happy to help” (implying willingness/pleasant disposition), “You shouldn’t have done that” (implying the speaker is upset or reproachful), or “I might have hurt her feelings” (expressing guilt or worry). These constructions convey emotion (joy, anger, guilt) without stating it outright; the feeling is inferred from context and the modal/auxiliary verb used (would, shouldn’t, might). Uzbek can also use modal expressions (it has words like kerak “should,” mumkin “might”) but emotional communication in Uzbek is less characterized by these syntactic mitigations and more by choosing the appropriate register or set phrase. An Uzbek speaker might more directly say Sizni ranjitib qo‘ydim, deb o‘ylayman (“I think I made you upset”) rather than “I might have hurt your feelings,” or use a respectful apology without explicitly naming the emotion, trusting context and tone to convey remorse.

English also has a tendency to use passive or experience-focused constructions for negative emotions: “I was offended by his words” (passive, focusing on the feeling experienced) or “It surprised me” (impersonal “it” construction). These allow the speaker to mention an emotional reaction without explicitly placing agency or blame on anyone in a face-threatening way. Uzbek, in analogous situations, might use reflexive or intransitive verbs: Men xafa bo‘ldim (“I became upset”) or Hayron bo‘ldim (“I became surprised”). The Uzbek phrasing describes the change of state within the speaker, somewhat akin to an intransitive event (“upsetness happened to me”), which is conceptually similar to the English passive/experiencer focus. However, the degree of directness can differ: the Uzbek phrase Men xafa bo‘ldim is a straightforward statement “I got upset,” whereas an English speaker might more indirectly say “I was a bit upset” or “I didn’t take it well.” In formal contexts, English might even shift to a detached construction: “There was some frustration on my part.” The choice in each language depends on cultural norms about self-assertion versus humility. According to one analysis, Uzbek generally permits a more vivid portrayal of personal feelings in grammatical form – through explicit mention of heart, soul, and other imagery – yet within a culturally prescribed modesty, whereas English favors precision and nuance, using grammar (e.g. modals, tense, aspect) to calibrate how strongly or directly an emotion is stated.

To illustrate, consider expressions of regret. In English, one might say, “I should not have said that; I feel bad about it,” using a modal (should not have) and a general “feel bad” statement. In Uzbek, a speaker might say, Aytib qo‘yganimga pushaymonman – literally “I am repentant for having said [that],” using the Persian-derived word pushaymon (repentant/regretful) or simply Afsusdaman (“I am in regret/sorrow”). The Uzbek expressions directly name the emotion or state of regret (pushaymon, afsus) and attach it to the first person (with -man “I am”). English speakers do use “I regret…” or “I am regretful,” but these can sound formal or heavy; more often, an English speaker might prefer the construction “I shouldn’t have…” or “I wish I hadn’t…”, conveying regret in a roundabout way. This exemplifies how English often submerges the explicit emotion word into a larger syntactic frame, whereas Uzbek will use an emotion noun or adjective straightforwardly but may surround it with polite particles or context to maintain courtesy.

In summary, English and Uzbek both possess the grammatical means to express emotions either directly or indirectly, but they differ in their default preferences. English syntax offers many ways to allude to emotions without bluntly stating them (through modals, passives, hypotheticals), aligning with a cultural tendency to balance honesty with tact. Uzbek grammar, conversely, often encodes emotions in possessive or experiencer-focused structures that allow for direct description of the feeling as something one has or undergoes, aligning with a cultural comfort in vivid emotional imagery. Yet, as we will see in the next sections, this directness in describing the feeling is coupled with a strong use of idiomatic and ritualized forms that ensure the expression remains culturally appropriate and not overly personal in the wrong context.

Idioms and Metaphors: Cultural Imagery of Emotion

Idiomatic expressions and metaphors for emotion provide some of the most colorful evidence of how culture influences language. Both English and Uzbek make extensive use of figurative language to describe how people feel, often drawing on embodied experiences (such as sensations of temperature, movement, or bodily pressure) and culturally salient symbols. Our comparative analysis finds that while there are certain universals in metaphor (for example, associating happiness with upward movement or lightness, and sadness with downward or heavy sensations), each language also showcases unique idioms grounded in its culture’s history and environment.

Happiness and positive emotions: English idioms for joy frequently invoke a sense of rising up or floating, reflecting the metaphor HAPPY IS UP (as noted in cognitive metaphor theory). One can be “on cloud nine,” “over the moon,” “floating on air,” or “in seventh heaven.” These idioms emphasize an individual’s elation by comparing it to vertical or atmospheric ascent – being high above worldly concerns. Uzbek also has metaphors of elevation for happiness, but often with a more earthy or expansive twist. A happy Uzbek speaker might say Ko‘ngli tog‘dek ko‘tarildi – “His soul rose like a mountain,” or Og‘zi qulog‘iga yetdi – “His mouth reached his ears,” meaning he smiled broadly. The former compares the heart’s uplift to a mountain (a grand, solid natural image) rather than a cloud, and the latter uses a vivid bodily image of a huge grin. Another common Uzbek phrase for being very happy is Ko‘ngli osmonda – “His soul is in the sky,” which is analogous to English “on cloud nine.” Thus, both languages link joy with height and brightness (sky, clouds), but English leans toward fanciful imagery (clouds, heaven), whereas Uzbek sometimes uses more tangible natural features like mountains or concrete body-based depictions (a wide smile). Culturally, this might relate to the Uzbek affinity for nature in folklore and the importance of the heart/soul (ko‘ngil) as the site of emotion. It’s worth noting that English too personifies the heart in happiness (e.g. “heart leaps” for joy), but English speakers more often locate joy in the overall person (“I am thrilled”) than explicitly in a body organ.

Sadness and grief: English idioms for sadness often involve darkness, downness, or damage to the heart. Someone might be “feeling blue” (blue connoting sadness), “down in the dumps” (low, depressed), or “heartbroken” (the heart metaphorically cracked by grief). There is also the idiom “with a heavy heart,” indicating sorrow as a weight. Uzbek, similarly, uses downward and weight metaphors: Ko‘ngli cho‘kdi means “His soul sank” (he became depressed), and Yuragi vayron bo‘ldi means “His heart became ruined” – essentially equivalent to heartbroken. However, Uzbek idioms can be strikingly direct and visceral in portraying sadness. For example, Yuragi ezildi – “His heart was crushed/pressed” – paints an image of the heart under unbearable pressure, conveying deep anguish. In moments of extreme despair or lamentation, an Uzbek might exclaim Fig‘onim falakka chiqdi, literally “My wail/cry rose to the sky,” meaning that the person cried out so bitterly that their cry reached heaven. This idiom emphasizes the external expression (the act of wailing) and uses a hyperbolic vertical imagery (sound reaching the sky) to communicate the depth of sorrow. English has nothing quite as vivid in everyday use; one might say “cry one’s eyes out,” but that still focuses on personal tears rather than a cosmological image of mourning. The use of falak (sky) in Uzbek links to poetic and perhaps religious imagery – appealing to the heavens in distress – reflecting how intertwined emotion is with literature and spirituality in Uzbek culture.

Anger: Both languages liken anger to heat and loss of control, but again with cultural flavor. English speakers say “to lose one’s temper” (suggesting the metaphor of anger as a thing that is unleashed or lost from grip), “see red” (associating anger with the color of blood and fire), or “blow one’s top”/“hit the roof” (anger as explosive upward force). Uzbek shares some common metaphors: Jahli chiqmoq literally “his anger went out” corresponds to “lost his temper”, and Qoni qaynadi – “his blood boiled” – is identical in imagery to the English phrase, showing a likely universal bodily metaphor for anger. However, Uzbek also has richly figurative idioms unique to its cultural context. A particularly evocative one is jahl otiga mindi, which means “he mounted the horse of rage”. This phrase personifies anger as a wild horse that the angry person has metaphorically jumped onto, implying that the person is being carried away by anger and perhaps will act recklessly (just as a rider on a rampaging horse might). There is no English equivalent to this metaphor – an English speaker wouldn’t say “he rode anger’s horse,” but might simply say “he flew into a rage.” The Uzbek idiom reflects a cultural heritage of horsemanship and steppe imagery, integrating it into emotional language. Another Uzbek expression, To‘nini teskari kiymoq (“to put on one’s coat inside out”), describes someone who has become angry or contrary, essentially “turning against” others in temper. This is a very culturally specific idiom that would sound opaque if translated literally. English would express that idea with something like “He turned surly” or “He was beside himself with anger,” without the quaint coat image. The presence of such idioms underscores that Uzbek emotional metaphors often draw from everyday traditional life (coats, horses, etc.), whereas English idioms might draw more from industrial or universal experiences (explosions, color changes).

Fear and surprise: In English, fear is often conveyed by metaphors of coldness or loss of color: “cold feet,” “shivers down my spine,” “went pale,” etc., as well as the idea of “frozen stiff” by fear. Uzbek also uses the pale imagery: Rangi oqardi – “his color turned white,” meaning he was frightened. This suggests a similar physiological observation (blood draining from the face). But Uzbek can also say Ko‘zlari kosasidan chiqib ketay dedi – “his eyes almost popped out” – to describe extreme surprise or fright, an idiom not common in English (though English says “eyes popped out” more for astonishment than fear). The overlap in these idioms indicates some shared human experience of fear (paleness, wide eyes) and their metaphorization. However, when consoling someone who is afraid or distressed, cultural scripts diverge: an Uzbek might use a proverb or a gentle familial nickname (e.g. calling a child jigar or bolajon “dear, sweetheart” to soothe them), whereas an English speaker might say “It’s okay, I’m here, don’t worry” – directly addressing the emotion and offering rational assurance.

Across these examples, a pattern emerges: English idioms tend to isolate the individual’s internal state, often using abstract or hyperbolic imagery (floating, exploding, color changes), whereas Uzbek idioms frequently incorporate social or physical context, using concrete objects, nature, and body parts, and sometimes implying an interaction with the world or others. English says “heart of stone” for a person who lacks empathy; Uzbek might say Ko‘ngli toshdek qotgan (“his soul has hardened like a stone”), which is a very similar metaphor, likely arising independently or via literary influence. But in praising someone’s courage, an English speaker might say “She has a lot of heart” (again heart-as-center-of character), whereas an Uzbek might say Yuragi bo‘ri (“Her heart is [like] a wolf”) in some contexts to imply bravery or wild courage, drawing on the wolf as a cultural symbol of ferocity. There are also idioms where English and Uzbek metaphors diverge in emotional valuation: for example, liver in English idioms has no emotional significance (it appears only in an archaic idiom like “pluck up one’s liver” which is obsolete), but in Uzbek (and related cultures) jigar (“liver”) is associated with love and dear affection. To call someone jigar (“liver”) in Uzbek is an endearment akin to “my dear” or “my beloved,” which might puzzle an English speaker. Such cases highlight how culturally arbitrary some metaphorical mappings are – why liver for love? Possibly because in ancient Central Asian medicine the liver was seen as the seat of emotion, or simply through linguistic convention. English, by contrast, would almost never use an internal organ besides the heart in a positive idiom; calling someone “my liver” would sound comical or nonsensical in English.

It is also notable that ritualized idiomatic expressions exist for certain emotional situations, especially in Uzbek. These are fixed phrases used on social occasions that carry emotional weight. For example, upon news of a death, an Uzbek might say Joyingiz jannatda bo‘lsin (“May your place be in paradise”) or the earlier mentioned Sabr qiling (“Have patience/endure”), which convey sympathy and communal solidarity in the face of loss. English speakers, in the same scenario, rely on a simpler set of phrases (“I’m so sorry,” “my condolences”) which, while sincere, are less metaphorical and more straightforward. The richness of condolence expressions in Uzbek (often tied to Islamic concepts of patience and heaven) indicates how emotional expression is interwoven with religious and cultural values in the language. Similar contrasts can be found for expressions of gratitude or joy at celebrations: English “Congratulations!” versus Uzbek Tabriklaymiz, boshingiz ko‘kka yetsin! (“We congratulate you, may your head reach the sky!” said to someone who has achieved something, literally wishing them utmost joy) – the latter again uses an upward metaphor for joy but in a ritualized well-wishing form.

In summary, idioms and metaphors in English and Uzbek both utilize the human body, physical sensations, and environment to conceptualize emotions, but they do so with different emphasis. English metaphors of emotion often highlight individual subjective experience (up in the clouds, broken heart, seeing red) and can be quite abstract, while Uzbek metaphors tend to be more concrete, communal, and narrative (involving parts of the body like heart, liver, or culturally salient scenarios like riding a horse, enduring a trial). These idiomatic differences are a direct reflection of cultural narrative and imagery traditions: the stories, proverbs, and daily life of Uzbek people (agrarian, family- and honor-oriented, often referencing nature and folklore) versus those of English speakers (historically more influenced by industrial, urban imagery and a tradition of individual-centered expression in literature). Recognizing these differences is crucial for translation and intercultural understanding, as a literal translation of an emotional idiom can easily fail to convey the intended feeling or could even cause misunderstanding if the imagery does not carry over culturally.

Cultural Scripts and Pragmatic Norms

Beyond specific words and idioms, one must consider the cultural scripts – the unwritten rules and expectations – that govern how and when emotions should be expressed. These scripts influence pragmatics: what is appropriate to say (or not say) in a given social context, how openly one should display feelings, and what kind of emotional expressions are valued or discouraged. The contrast between English and Uzbek in this regard illuminates deeper differences in interpersonal communication styles and cultural values surrounding emotion.

In broadly Anglophone (especially North American or British) culture, there is a notable emphasis on authenticity and individualism in emotional expression. From a relatively young age, English speakers are often encouraged to “use your words” to describe feelings and to be honest about how they feel, albeit in a polite manner. This reflects an underlying cultural script that asserting one’s personal feelings is generally positive, or at least a sign of honesty and self-awareness. Of course, there are limits – English social norms also prize emotional restraint in certain settings (the stereotype of the “stiff upper lip” in British culture, for example) – but compared to Uzbek norms, there is more tolerance for explicit self-disclosure of emotions. Saying “I’m really upset about what happened,” “I love you,” or “I feel nervous” in appropriate circumstances is seen as natural and even healthy in English-speaking contexts. This aligns with the individualistic orientation: the individual’s inner state is considered important and worth sharing, and emotional transparency can be linked to sincerity and trustworthiness in interpersonal relations.

Uzbek cultural scripts, shaped by a collectivist and high-context society, put relatively more weight on emotional self-control, respect, and situational appropriateness. An important concept is andisha, mentioned earlier, which entails exercising restraint and modesty in behavior so as not to disturb social harmony or offend others. In emotional terms, andisha means one should not impose one’s negative emotions on others or appear out of control. For example, if an Uzbek person is angry with an elder or in a public setting, a direct confrontation or shouting would be seen as highly inappropriate; instead, they might express their displeasure in a tempered way or even conceal it, speaking around the issue indirectly. Similarly, overt boastfulness about one’s happiness or success is frowned upon for fear of provoking envy (ko‘z tegmasin – “may the evil eye not strike”). Culturally, there is an ethic of emotional moderation – neither too ecstatic nor too despondent in public – which ties to values of humility and endurance. Emotions are certainly felt deeply by Uzbek people, but the expected script is to channel them in culturally approved ways. For instance, sadness and grief are expressed, but often in ritual forms (wailing at a funeral is allowed, even expected, but outside of that context constant complaining might be seen as lacking sabr or patience). Joy is expressed communally (dancing and loud laughter at weddings), yet an individual praising their own achievements too much would breach andisha.

These cultural scripts manifest linguistically. English interactions may include frequent emotional vocabulary as part of “small talk” or interpersonal communication – e.g., “I’m excited about the trip,” “I’m a bit upset with how that meeting went” – where the speaker voluntarily offers their emotional state. In Uzbek interactions, especially in formal or intergenerational contexts, one would less commonly hear explicit self-reports of emotion. It would be unusual, for example, for a student to tell a teacher “I’m angry about my grade” in plain terms; showing such emotion to an authority could be seen as disrespectful. Instead, an Uzbek student might indirectly say, “I did not expect this result, it was a bit disappointing” using soft words, or simply not verbalize the feeling at all, hoping the teacher infers it. Respect (hurmat) and deference often override personal emotional display. Uzbek language usage supports this through honorifics and polite circumlocutions – one might cushion a complaint with phrases like hayron bo‘ldim (“I was surprised”) rather than xafa bo‘ldim (“I was upset”), to be less confrontational.

Another aspect is the use of ritualized expressions and proverbs to convey or manage emotions. Uzbek culture has a rich repertoire of proverbs that carry emotional wisdom or social admonitions (many stemming from folklore and Islamic teachings). Instead of saying “I’m angry at you for being ungrateful,” someone might quote a proverb about ingratitude, allowing the message to be delivered without direct accusation. For joy and affection, rather than saying “I love you” repeatedly (which can be seen as overly direct and even suspicious if overused), an Uzbek might use nicknames, blessings, or perform acts of service – all part of a script where actions and conventional phrases stand in for explicit verbal emoting. English speakers also use formulaic expressions (“Thank you so much, I really appreciate it” – expressing gratitude; or sending greeting cards with set phrases), but in general English relies less on proverbs or fixed formulas in everyday emotional communication. The heavy use of such formulas in Uzbek (and many Asian cultures) implies that emotions are seen as communal experiences governed by time-honored scripts, whereas in English, emotions are seen more as personal states that one articulates in one’s own words.

One interesting cultural script difference pertains to empathy and consoling. In an English context, if a friend is sad or in trouble, a typical response is verbal empathy: “I’m sorry you’re going through this. I know how you feel. Is there anything I can do?” This directly addresses the person’s emotion and attempts to validate it. In Uzbek contexts, empathy might be shown more through presence and implicit understanding than through explicit acknowledgment of the feeling. A friend might come and sit with the person, help with chores, or gently say “Hamma narsa o‘tib ketadi” (“Everything will pass”) – a comforting phrase – rather than “I know how you feel.” The script here is to offer hope or practical support rather than to talk about the emotion per se. This does not mean Uzbeks lack empathy; rather, the cultural norm favors solidarity and patience as responses to emotion, rooted in the collective experience (often with religious undertones of fate and endurance), whereas the Anglo norm favors verbal articulation and validation of the individual’s feeling.

The concept of honor and face also plays a role. In English, maintaining one’s dignity is important, but emotional vulnerability is not always seen as loss of face – it can even garner support. In Uzbek (and many collectivist cultures), there can be stronger pressure to maintain composure because one person’s emotional outburst might reflect on the family or group. For example, a public display of anger could be seen not just as a personal issue but as shameful to one’s kin or community. Thus, cultural scripts in Uzbek encourage emotional restraint in public settings (andisha and oriyat – a sense of honor that discourages making a scene). In private, among close trusted friends or family, Uzbeks certainly share deep feelings, but even then the mode of expression might differ (perhaps lamenting through storytelling or metaphors rather than direct “I-statements”). English speakers, by contrast, are culturally granted more license to “vent” or explicitly say what they feel, especially in cultures like American where openness is often equated with emotional health.

These differing pragmatic norms have clear implications for intercultural communication. Misunderstandings can occur when an English speaker interprets an Uzbek speaker’s subtle or formulaic expression through an Anglo lens, or vice versa. For instance, an English speaker might mistake an Uzbek colleague’s reserved reaction as indifference, not realizing it is a sign of respectful restraint. Conversely, an Uzbek might find an English speaker’s candid talk about their emotions to be oddly direct or lacking andisha, when in that person’s culture it is normal. Awareness of the other culture’s emotional scripts (the “invisible rules”) is crucial to avoid misinterpretation. One cultural script is not “better” than the other; they are simply different ways in which language and culture have co-evolved to manage the expression of the human affective experience.

Discussion

The comparative analysis of English and Uzbek emotional expression highlights the profound interaction of language and culture in shaping how emotions are communicated. Several key themes emerge from the findings, each reflecting the underlying cultural values and social structures of the respective speech communities:

• Individualism vs. Collectivism in Emotional Discourse: The English patterns we observed – explicit labelling of feelings, a wealth of personal emotion adjectives, and a communication style that often foregrounds the speaker’s internal state – align with the individualistic orientation of Anglo culture. Emotional expression in English tends to validate the importance of “my feelings” as an individual. In contrast, Uzbek’s use of communal metaphors, its preference for implicit communication in many situations, and the integration of cultural values like andisha and oriyat into emotional language reflect a collectivist ethos. Emotions are not just personal matters but are intertwined with social expectations and relationships. The language invites speakers to express feelings in ways that consider others – through honorifics, communal idioms, or ritual phrases – thereby reinforcing group cohesion and respect. This difference supports Wierzbicka’s contention that each culture has its own “emotional script”: in Anglo culture, the script encourages being true to one’s individual feelings (within polite bounds), whereas in Uzbek culture, the script emphasizes maintaining social harmony and dignity when expressing emotion.

• Metaphorical Universals vs. Cultural Specifics: The analysis confirms Kövecses’s observation that metaphors of emotion have universal and culture-specific elements. Certain embodied metaphors – like up/down, warm/cold, pressure/release – appear in both English and Uzbek, suggesting common human physiological experiences of emotion. Both languages, for example, talk about “heart” and “blood” in emotional contexts, indicating a shared understanding that the heart is central to emotions and that strong feelings affect one’s heartbeat or blood flow. However, the specific idioms and the frequency of particular images differ, painting unique cultural tapestries. English discourse showed a penchant for abstracted imagery and hyperbole (cloud nine, see red), whereas Uzbek demonstrated a richer use of organic and narrative imagery (horses, mountains, proverbs). Uzbek metaphors often carry an embedded story or social context (like the idiom that implicitly references how an angry person might behave like a rider on a wild horse, potentially causing chaos in the village). These findings illustrate how metaphorical language is “partly universal—rooted in bodily experience—but also culture-specific”. For intercultural communication, this means that some emotion metaphors might translate relatively easily (those based on shared human experiences), while others require explanation or adaptation to avoid confusion.
• Direct vs. Indirect Expression: We found an interesting nuance regarding directness. On the surface, English seemed more direct lexically – using straightforward words for emotions (happy, sad, etc.) – whereas Uzbek used more figurative or roundabout phrases. Yet, one could also argue the opposite in terms of imagery: Uzbek’s expressions like “my heart is torn” or “mounted the horse of anger” are quite graphic and direct in painting the emotional picture, while English might euphemize (e.g. “upset” is milder than “heart-torn”). The resolution of this apparent paradox lies in understanding contextual directness. English is direct about stating that one has an emotion, but often indirect about the intensity or cause (using softeners, vagueness, or shifting blame). Uzbek might be indirect about acknowledging an emotion explicitly (due to cultural restraint), but once it is expressed, it may be conveyed with very potent imagery or proverb. In essence, English speakers say “I” with an emotion word more readily; Uzbek speakers might let the metaphor speak for them. The discussion of directness thus must consider multiple layers: semantic directness (using a literal emotion term vs. a metaphor) and pragmatic directness (openly declaring feelings vs. hinting). Our analysis suggests English favors semantic directness but can employ pragmatic softening, whereas Uzbek often uses semantic indirection (metaphor) combined with pragmatic respectfulness. This dynamic is crucial for translators or bilingual communicators to understand – what is unsaid in one language might be said through idiom or context in the other.
• Role of Cultural Values in Emotional Lexicon: The presence of culturally unique emotion terms in Uzbek (andisha, g‘urur, oriyat, etc.) highlights how language encodes the values and social norms of a community. These words have no exact English equivalents because the emotional nuances they carry are tied to specific cultural contexts – for instance, andisha encapsulates an emotional restraint that is taught and expected in Uzbek society, blending shame, humility, and respect. English speakers have to paraphrase it (“not wanting to impose or overstep”) but might not feel it as acutely as someone raised with that concept. Similarly, English has terms like awkward or embarrassed that don’t translate neatly into Uzbek without explanation, because they emerge from an individualistic context of self-conscious emotion different from the collectivist context of uyat (shame) or andisha. These gaps remind us that certain emotional experiences are amplified, downplayed, or segmented differently by different cultures. A practical implication is that language learners must not only learn foreign words, but also the cultural attitudes behind those words to truly understand when and how to use them.

In light of these insights, what are the broader implications? For intercultural communication, as mentioned, miscommunication can easily occur if one interprets the other’s emotional expressions through one’s own cultural filter. An English manager might think an Uzbek employee is unenthusiastic or devoid of ideas because the employee does not openly volunteer feelings or react with visible excitement – when in fact, the employee is being appropriately reserved and cautious (andisha at play). Conversely, an Uzbek host might find a Western guest somewhat bold or lacking subtlety because the guest verbalizes every like or dislike frankly, whereas Uzbek etiquette might expect reading between the lines. Training in intercultural competence should include awareness of these emotional expression differences. Something as simple as how we say “thank you” or “sorry” can have different weight; in English, “sorry” is used even for mild inconveniences as a token of empathy, while in Uzbek, Kechirasiz (excuse me/forgive me) might be reserved for more serious apologies – thus, over-saying sorry in Uzbek context could puzzle people.

For language learning and translation, our analysis underscores the importance of teaching beyond direct translation. Learners of English coming from Uzbek (or similar cultures) need to grasp idioms like “feeling blue” or “butterflies in my stomach” and understand that these convey emotions which they might express differently. They also might need encouragement to express emotions more directly in English, especially in contexts where it is expected (like writing a personal statement or in a therapeutic conversation – contexts where English norms encourage openness). On the flip side, English speakers learning Uzbek must learn the local emotional etiquette: for example, understanding why an Uzbek friend might not say “I love you” frequently even if they care deeply, or why certain complaints are phrased as proverbs instead of direct statements. Teaching materials could incorporate common emotional scenarios (celebrations, condolences, conflicts) and show how each language approaches them. Translators should be particularly cautious with idioms and metaphors: a literal translation of jahl otiga mindi as “rode the horse of anger” in an English novel might confuse readers, so a better translation might be “flew into a rage” or “became furious,” capturing the meaning without the exact image. Sometimes, an image can be kept for flavor if explained or if the context makes it clear, but the translator must judge if the metaphor is transparent or not to the target audience.

Another implication is in the field of cross-cultural psychology and counseling: Emotional expression is tied to mental health and interpersonal communication. Counselors working with Uzbek clients (or generally, clients from more collectivist backgrounds) should be aware that direct probing of feelings (“Tell me how you feel”) might not immediately yield results, as the client could be unaccustomed to such direct labeling and may instead reveal emotions through narratives or analogies. Likewise, Western-trained practitioners might misread the emotional state of someone from a different culture if they expect the same overt signals. A culturally sensitive approach would recognize the legitimacy of different emotional expressions – neither Anglo frankness nor Uzbek restraint is inherently better; they are adaptations to social environments.

Finally, our discussion highlights that language and culture form an integrated system when it comes to emotions. Changes in cultural attitudes (for example, globalization and increased intercultural exposure) can lead to shifts in language use. There is anecdotal evidence that younger Uzbeks, under the influence of global media and perhaps English, are becoming more comfortable saying things like Men sizni yaxshi ko‘raman (“I love you”) in casual contexts, something that older generations might have expressed less directly. Likewise, English speakers are increasingly borrowing foreign words for unique emotional concepts (consider the popularity of terms like schadenfreude from German, or feng shui from Chinese philosophy, etc., in niche contexts). This cross-pollination of emotional vocabulary suggests that as the world becomes more interconnected, languages may enrich each other in the emotional domain, but core cultural scripts often persist at a deep level.

Conclusion

Language and culture are inextricably linked in the realm of emotional expression. Through this comparative analysis of English and Uzbek, we have seen how two languages can each articulate the same human feelings – joy, sorrow, anger, love – yet do so differently, guided by cultural context. English, emerging from an individualistic cultural milieu, tends to foreground personal emotion with explicit words and imaginative metaphors, often prioritizing clarity and personal voice. Uzbek, shaped by a collectivist, high-context culture, often embeds emotion in richly descriptive phrases, communal idioms, and respectful communicative norms, thereby prioritizing social harmony and shared understanding.

The findings highlight several specific contrasts: English speakers commonly say “I am [emotion]”, whereas Uzbek speakers might say “My heart/soul [experience]” to convey the feeling. English idioms may place one’s head in the clouds or heart in pieces, while Uzbek idioms might seat one’s heart on a mountain or depict anger as a wild steed to be tamed. English communication values a degree of candor about feelings (tempered by politeness), whereas Uzbek communication values discretion and contextual sensitivity, drawing on cultural scripts like andisha (prudence/modesty) to modulate emotional display. Despite these differences, we also observed underlying commonalities: both languages use metaphor to bridge the internal experience of emotion with external reality, and both have mechanisms to soften or intensify emotional messages as needed.

Appreciating these nuances is more than an academic exercise – it has practical significance for anyone engaging across languages. For translators and interpreters, an in-depth understanding of how emotions are couched in each language can spell the difference between a translation that resonates and one that falls flat. For language learners, developing pragmatic competence – knowing not just how to translate words, but how to express feelings appropriately in the target language – is crucial for truly effective communication. An English speaker learning Uzbek must learn when it is appropriate to use a proverb instead of a direct complaint; an Uzbek speaker learning English must practice being a bit more direct with “I feel…” statements in contexts where it’s expected. Such adjustments can greatly improve mutual understanding and reduce the risk of miscommunication.

In intercultural interactions, awareness of different emotional expression styles fosters empathy and patience. Rather than stereotyping an English speaker as “insincere” for smiling while upset, or an Uzbek speaker as “unfeeling” for not verbally expressing sorrow, one learns to read the signs according to that culture’s norms. As our analysis shows, Uzbek discourse may convey deep care or grief in what appears to an outsider as an indirect way – through rituals, allusions, or a respectful silence – but those expressions are no less genuine than a forthright English “I’m sorry” or “I’m angry.” Developing the ability to interpret these cultural signals is a key component of intercultural competence.

This study has combined theoretical perspectives with illustrative examples to shed light on how language structure, idiomatic imagery, and cultural context come together in the expression of emotion. Of course, the topic is vast. Future research could expand on this work by examining other emotion categories (such as envy, hope, or humor) in English and Uzbek, possibly using corpus-based methods to see how frequently certain patterns occur in natural discourse. Investigating how younger generations or bilingual individuals navigate between these two emotional styles would also be illuminating – do they code-switch their emotional expressions depending on language? Do global influences cause convergence in some areas? Additionally, surveying native speakers about their perceptions of emotional expression could add a sociolinguistic dimension to the analysis, validating the pragmatic observations made here.

In conclusion, the way we talk about feelings is a product of both our shared humanity and our distinct cultural heritage. Emotions may be universal, but as this comparative analysis demonstrates, languages map those emotions in wonderfully diverse ways. English and Uzbek each provide a window into how humans can weave their joys and sorrows into words, guided by the loom of culture. By understanding these patterns, we not only become better linguists or communicators, but we also gain insight into different ways of seeing the world – with the heart, the soul, or perhaps the liver – and ultimately, we inch closer to a more nuanced appreciation of the human emotional tapestry in its global context. As the Uzbek proverb wisely puts it, Til – dilning ko‘zgusi (“Language is the mirror of the heart”): by studying language, we come to understand the heart – and in doing so, understand one another – a little better.

References:

1. Kövecses, Z. (2000). Metaphor and Emotion: Language, Culture, and Body in Human Feeling. Cambridge University Press.
2. Hamidov, D. S. (2025). “Linguocultural Features of Joy and Sadness in English and Uzbek.” International Journal of Science and Technology, 2(11), 34–35.
3. Najmiddinova, M. (2025). Linguopragmatic analysis of phraseological units and idioms relating to the concept of hospitality in English and Uzbek. Scientific journal of the Fergana State University, (4), 94-94. DOI:  10.56292/SJFSU/vol31_iss4/a94,  https://journal.fdu.uz/
4. Najmiddinova M.N. Linguodidactic features of proverbs related to the concept of “hospitality” (Examples from English and Uzbek languages) // il va adabiyot.uz Ilmiy-metodik elektron jurnal. -tilvaadabiyotuz@gmail.com, 6-son.2025.-B.227-230. https: //oak.uz/pages/4802 
5. Najmiddinova M.N., Furqatova H.A., Nabiyeva D.G‘. “Linguistic features of phraseological units with a common meaning “hospitality”, “Modern trends of teaching in the context of innovative and digital
   technologies in higher education: prospects, problems and solutions”. November 29, 2024. –B.607-609.https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.14259715.
6. Najmiddinova M.N. “Linguocultural and linguopragmatic features of the concept of “hospitality” in English and Uzbek”//International conference Philology, Methodology, Translation Studies: Current Issues of Modern Science. -8-9.11.2024.-P.306-309.https://doi.org/10.2024/1xm0b673.
7. Najmiddinova  M.N. “Linguoculturalogical features of proverbs on “hospitality” in English and Uzbek”, Tamaddun nuri // The light of civilization, ISSN 2181-8258, 10(61), 2024.-P.74-79. https://jurnal.tamaddunnuri.uz/index.php/tnj/article/view/972
8. Najmiddinova  M.N., Qahramonova M.U. “Innovation in language teaching, learning and assessment” // Results of National Scientific Research International Journal, Volume 4| Issue 3 Researchbib 9.1, ISSN: 2181-3639,2025. -P.132-140. https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.15111294
9. Najmiddinova M.N. “Mehmondo‘stlik” tushunchasiga oid maqollarning pragmatik tahlili// “Universal journal of social sciences philosophy and culture”. -https://scienceresearch.uz/index.php/UJSSPC/article/view/286   ISSN: 2992-8834 IMPACT FACTOR: 8.0,2025.-B.44-50.. https://zenodo.org/records/14732811
10. Najmiddinova M.N. Similarities and differences between values of Uzbek and English cultures // Tanqidiy nazar, tahliliy tafakkur va innovatsion g‘oyalar.2025.-B.107-111. https://phoenixpublication.net/index.php/TANQ/article/view/3802
11. Najmiddinova  M.N., Rahmatova M.U. The role of Pragmatics in Intercultural Communication with an Emphasis on Politeness // Tamaddun Nuri/The light of civilization. -ISSN 2181-8258 IF-9.347 DOI 10.69691,4-son (67) 2025.-P.237-240. https://doi.org/10.2024/1xm0b673.
12. Najmiddinova M.N. Linguistic features of phraseological units with a common meaning “hospitality” // Qo‘qon DPI. Ilmiy xabarlar,3-son. ISBN: 978-9943-7182-7-2 “CLASSIC” nashriyoti.2025.-P.1886-1891. www.kspi.uz journal.kspi.uz 
13. Zakirova, D. Y. (2023). “Cultural and Contextual Differences in Expressing Emotional States in Uzbek and English.” TIIJ (Tashkent International Journal) – see for analysis of grammatical features.
14. Berdiyeva, Z. O. (2024). “A Comparative Study of English and Uzbek Body Metaphors.” Proceedings of ASR Conference – referenced for examples of jigar and ko‘ngil metaphors.
15. Karimov, X. (2025). “Psycholinguistic Features of Communication in Uzbek and English.” Web of Journals, 3(1) – supporting discussion on context styles.
16. Uzbek phraseological dictionary examples – see for idioms (jahli chiqmoq, jahl otiga mindi, etc.) illustrating Uzbek emotional expressions.

Wierzbicka, A. (1999). Emotions across Languages and Cultures: Diversity and Universals. Cambridge University Press.

Inclusive Education

In the current globalization process, ensuring human rights in the education system, creating equal opportunities and providing education taking into account the individual needs of each student has become an urgent issue. In this context, the inclusive education approach is widely recognized around the world. Inclusive education is a system that creates conditions for all children, including students with disabilities or special needs, to study together in general education institutions. The main emphasis in this system is on providing quality education to each child through adapting the educational environment, improving pedagogical methods and using modern technologies.

Inclusive education is a system that ensures that all children, including those with disabilities or special needs, have access to quality education alongside their peers in mainstream education institutions. In Uzbekistan, UNICEF, in partnership with the Ministry of Preschool and School Education, is making it a priority to create an equal learning environment for all by modeling inclusive schools, creating accessible infrastructure, and introducing new standards.

Key aspects of inclusive education:

Equality: Children with disabilities receive education alongside their peers, without being isolated from society.

Infrastructure: Universal design of school buildings, i.e. creating accessible conditions for children with disabilities (ramps, special equipment), UNICEF.

Legislation: Testing new guidelines and standards to improve the quality of inclusive education, UNICEF.

Pedagogical approach: Using special methodologies for working with children with hearing, vision or intellectual disabilities.

Juraeva Aziza Rakhmatovna was born on March 26, 2000, in Uzbekistan. She graduated from Kokand University in 2023 with a degree in Primary Education. In 2022, she was included in the almanac “100 Leading Students of Uzbekistan.” In the same year, she became a recipient of the iBook.uz scholarship. Her articles and poems have been published in Turkey and South Korea.

Valentine’s Day

Love and Friendship Heart

garden where suns and moons germinate

fire that dances on petals of crystal and smoke

earth that trembles beneath steps of warm water

echo that keeps names in chambers of silence.

Love, compass that marks heartbeats in the void,

wave that bends mountains and makes the sea its bed,

key that opens doors where there is no lock,

echo that becomes song in the throat of the wind.

Friendship, woven from leaves and molten metals,

anchor that floats on rivers of clouds and foam,

map drawn with scars and laughter,

echo that answers before the word is born.

Time, cup that serves mixed lights and shadows,

curtain where dreams made flesh are projected,

path where hands run without seeking a destination,

echo that unites all heartbeats in a single rhythm.

Graciela Noemi Villaverde, Argentine Writer and Poet

 ……..

Archaeology of the Morning

Suppose a poem was left forgotten in a dream

in the morning, you stroll through the woods

and add the quacking of ducks

to the list of things that gladden your heart

Everything could just go on like this forever

behind the door you’ve closed, the dust no longer shimmers

no matter how hard you try

those words are like fish slipping back into the deep water

all that you write is but the shadow of that only poem

So you keep walking, keep encountering

faces half-familiar, smiling, nodding, exchanging greetings

as if you could wake up, as if you’ve been sitting all along in the morning sun

a little dazed

 ……..

A Hometown with No One Left

It will never be better again

it exists nowhere on this earth

how can I possibly fabricate

a painted paradise?

behind the open door lies a stretch of dimness

when the sunlight of memory surges forth

when even the dust carries a faint yellowish warmth

I have long forgotten the sound of your voice

it lingers beyond life, beyond death

whispering of us who are no more

when marble seals my lips

when I have no time to bid you farewell

 ………

What to Do, How to Proceed

Let’s just sit on this jutting rock

the afternoon sun still keeps it warm

it is firm and solid, leaning out over the abyss

let’s sit right here, we can talk about this rock

besides the sunlight, it bears traces of weather, traces of moss

time and wind have not loosened it

instead, they have fused it more tightly with the cliff

Autumn has come, gazing at the increasingly high blue sky

I feel old age, like a stone inside my body, growing bigger day by day

one day we will lift it up

and tap the moon that rose, somehow, at an unknown time

look—It is nothing more than a stone that is consistent inside and out

The others have all gone down the mountain one after another

or vanished into the rock crevices around the bend

lights have lit up inside the stones

we still wait for a sudden gust of wind

to snatch us up, like two small stones

and hurl us at a forehead, glowing bright with the rage of innocence

The Abyss and the Stone

I discovered it at five years old, inside me

a place I could never reach

vast, wreathed in smoke, yet sometimes seeming not to exist at all

as if a single leaf could cover it whole

in the middle of play, it would suddenly emerge from the leaves across the way

rooting me to the spot in terror, back then, I’d turn deathly pale

grab a pebble, and slip away from my friends without a word

Words cannot hide it either, it defies all depiction

so, carrying this abyss—now swelling, now shrinking,

now fading, now flaring—I walk in the earthy world

gradually wearing an expression of solemnity ill-suited to my years

like the faint, ominous shadow of an iron ring

stealing over the brightness of summer

I buried my face in books through entire nights, wandered far and wide

at times, I would suddenly fail to recognize my own kin

Now, I often take it out

as pull a stone from my pocket, it is harder than a fist

blazing hot, it glimmers for a moment, then its surface turns black

I will not hurl it at dogs, nor cast it down into the valley

nor boil meat with it in a spring, as primitive men might do

I set it on the mountain, I think

perhaps it will slowly cool

slowly fade away into the variegated rocks and stones

Early Summer on Purple Mountain

In the small puddles left by wheel ruts beside the wild path

float clumps of frog spawn, like swollen, sticky clusters of tiny white grapes

the tadpoles that have already hatched refuse to leave

tadpoles, tadpoles, hurry and grow your legs

the woods are growing denser, and the puddles are drying up

At the end of every desolate trail, there are couples parking to make love

the path merely cuts through the sweltering thicket, curving toward another

springy slope that could shield against cannon fire

where obscure signals flicker at the crest

I have no choice but to live and die inside every frog spawn

On quiet afternoons, the mugwort pulled up exudes a stronger scent

I still find myself thinking about those clumps of frog spawn

it would be better if it rained a few more times

climbing the mountain with butterflies in the rain

the mountains are filled with frogs joyfully carting landmines

croaking loudly, their trousers rolled up just like mine

Ma Yongbo was born in 1964, Ph.D, representative of Chinese avant-garde poetry, and a leading scholar in Anglo-American poetry. He is the founder of polyphonic writing and objectified poetics. He is also the first translator to introduce British and American postmodern poetry into Chinese.

He has published over eighty original works and translations since 1986 included 9 poetry collections. He focused on translating and teaching Anglo-American poetry and prose including the work of Dickinson, Whitman, Stevens, Pound, Amy Lowell Williams, Ashbery and Rosanna Warren. He published a complete translation of Moby Dick, which has sold over 600,000 copies.

My dearest mother

You are my very existence, my sacred duty,

The meaning and essence of my life itself.

From a thousand flowers I would lay a carpet at your feet,

Your sweet fragrance is my heaven on earth.

You are my muse in the quiet of the night,

My angel who comes to my rescue when I fall.

When pain weighs on me, you are my healing cure,

My most beautiful flower from the gardens of Paradise.

You are my radiant sun that lights my day, 

My moon that shines through winter nights.

If you are by my side at every moment, every breath,

My entire life will pass in beauty and light.

To express the love I hold for you – 

If it were possible even once,

I would offer my very existence for you.

My soul, my dear mother, is devoted to you alone.

Dildorakhon Turg’unoboyeva is a student of Preschool Education at the Faculty of Pedagogy and Psychology, Kokand State University. She is an active participant and coordinator of numerous educational and social projects. She is the holder of nearly 100 international certificates and diplomas. She is a winner of international scientific and practical competitions and the recipient of the “Friendship Ambassador” and “Dedicated Scholar of Knowledge” honorary badges. She is an advanced-level English student. Her creative works indexed on Google and have been published in the “Ezgulik” newspaper. She holds the Embassy Certificate of Science and Literature of Argentina as well as The International Children’s Protection Ambassador Certificate.

The Role of Artificial Intelligence in Developing Students’ Critical Thinking Skills

To’laganova Muxlisa G’ulom qizi

A second-year student

 at the English Philology Faculty of UZSWLU

Email: tolaganovamuxlisa6@gmail.com

Scientific adviser: Xolmatova Maxbubaxon Axmadjon qizi

Teacher

at the English Philology Faculty of UZSWLU

Email: environmental.roughton@gmail.com

Abstract. This study examines the role of Artificial Intelligence (AI) in enhancing students’ critical thinking skills within contemporary educational context. Using a literature-based analysis, the research investigates how AI-driven tools facilitate personalized learning, interactive problem-solving, and adaptive feedback mechanisms. The findings suggest that AI can significantly improve students’ metacognitive reflection, analytical reasoning, and evaluative judgement when integrated thoughtfully into teaching practices. Ethical considerations, including cognitive overreliance, algorithmic bias, and data privacy concerns, are discussed to emphasize the need for responsible implementation. The stud highlights the essential role of educators in mediating Ai-supported learning, ensuring that technology serves as a cognitive partner rather than a substitute for human guidance. By combining Ai capabilities with effective pedagogical strategies, students are empowered to develop autonomous, reflective, and analytically capable thinking skills. These insights offer valuable guidance foe educators, policymakers, and researchers seeking to optimize AI integration in education while maintaining ethical and pedagogical standards.

Key Words. Artificial Intelligence, Critical thinking, Personalized learning, Educational Technology, Metacognition, Pedagogy

Introduction

In the past two decades, Artificial Intelligence (Al) has evolved from a futuristic concept into a transformative force that reshapes various aspects of human life, including education. Originally designed to perform automated and repetitive tasks, Al has advanced to encompass sophisticated cognitive functions such as language processing, reasoning, and decision-making. The introduction of Al into education began in the 1960s with early intelligent tutoring systems like SCHOLAR and PLATO, which sought to individualize instruction. However, technological and pedagogical shifts in the 21st century have expanded Al’s educational role beyond automation positioning it as a collaborative partner that can foster higher-order thinking and creativity among students. Today, Al is no longer merely a tool for information delivery, it has become an adaptive system capable of engaging learners in critical inquiry and self-regulated reflection.

The integration of Al in education aligns with the growing emphasis on 21st-century skills, where critical thinking has emerged as one of the most essential competencies for learners to navigate complex, information-rich environments. Critical thinking is generally defined as the ability to analyze, evaluate, and synthesize information to make reasoned and reflective judgments. It involves questioning assumptions, identifying patterns, and drawing conclusions based on evidence rather than intuition. The cultivation of these skills is not only vital for academic success but also for lifelong learning and civic engagement. As the digital landscape becomes increasingly saturated with algorithm-driven content, the capacity to think critically to differentiate between fact and bias, evidence and opinion -becomes indispensable. Consequently, educators are exploring how Al-based systems might serve as cognitive scaffolds to strengthen students’ reasoning abilities and reflective judgment. Understanding how Al can contribute to the development of critical thinking requires a brief examination of its theoretical foundations in educational psychology.

The roots of critical thinking in pedagogy can be traced back to John Dewey, who conceptualized reflective thinking as “active, persistent, and careful consideration of a belief or form of knowledge.” Dewey’s theory emphasized learning through experience and inquiry principles that align closely with how Al-powered environments engage students through exploration and feedback. Later, Bloom’s Taxonomy provided a structured hierarchy of cognitive processes – from remembering and understanding to analyzing, evaluating, and creating which remains a cornerstone in assessing thinking skills. Contemporary interpretations of critical thinking, such as those by Ennis and Facione, highlight the importance of logical reasoning, metacognition, and open-mindedness. When viewed through this theoretical lens, Al has the potential to stimulate these cognitive dimensions by providing personalized, interactive, and adaptive learning experiences that prompt students to reflect, evaluate, and solve problems independently.

The intersection of Al and critical thinking presents a unique opportunity for pedagogical innovation. Intelligent learning systems can analyze student responses, provide tailored feedback, and simulate real-world scenarios that challenge learners to apply abstract reasoning in practical contexts. Adaptive learning technologies, for example, adjust task complexity in real time, ensuring that students operate within their zone of proximal development a concept introduced by Vygotsky that emphasizes the balance between support and autonomy in learning. By interacting with Al-based feedback loops, students can become more aware of their reasoning patterns, recognize cognitive biases, and refine their analytical strategies.

At the same time, such technologies raise philosophical and ethical questions about the role of human judgment, agency, and creativity in an Al-mediated learning environment. Despite its growing potential, the relationship between Al and critical thinking remains underexplored in both empirical and conceptual research. Many existing studies focus on the technical aspects of Al in education algorithmic efficiency or data-driven such as personalization rather than its cognitive or philosophical implications. This gap underscores the need for scholarly attention to how Al can be used pedagogically to nurture rather than replace human reasoning. The current study addresses this gap by analyzing existing literature and conceptual frameworks to determine how Al can effectively enhance students’ critical thinking skills, what risks may emerge from its misuse, and how educators can balance automation with autonomy.

Therefore, the aim of this paper is threefold:

1. To explore how Al technologies can facilitate the development of students’ critical thinking skills.

2. To identify potential challenges, such as cognitive dependence or ethical limitations, that may accompany Al integration in learning.

3. To propose pedagogical strategies that enable educators to leverage Al responsibly, ensuring it functions as a supportive tool for intellectual growth rather than a substitute for human thought.

Through this conceptual analysis, the paper contributes to a deeper understanding of the cognitive, ethical, and pedagogical dimensions of Al in education offering insights into how technology and human reasoning can coexist in cultivating critical, autonomous, and reflective learners.

Methods

Data sources

This study employs a literature-based and conceptual approach to investigate the role of Artificial Intelligence (AI) in developing students’ critical thinking skills. No empirical data collection was conducted; instead, the analysis draws on previously published scholarly articles, books, and policy reports. These sources were selected based on their relevance to Al applications in education, focus on cognitive development and critical thinking, and credibility within the academic community. Primary sources include peer-reviewed journal articles published between 2016 and 2024, academic books addressing Al in pedagogy, and institutional reports from recognized educational organizations. Literature focusing solely on technical Al features without pedagogical implications was excluded to ensure the analysis remains focused on educational outcomes and cognitive development.

Analytical Framework

The study’s analytical framework is structured around three key dimensions:

1. Personalized and adaptive learning: examining how Al adjusts content, pace, and difficulty according to individual learners’ needs.
2. Cognitive stimulation: analyzing Al’s role in fostering problem-solving, analytical reasoning, and reflective thinking.
3. Potential limitations and risks: identifying challenges such as cognitive overreliance on Al, ethical concerns, and pedagogical constraints.

A qualitative synthesis method was applied to integrate findings across sources. Information from each study was coded according to relevant categories, and a thematic analysis was conducted to identify recurring trends, convergences, and divergences. This process ensures a nuanced understanding of Al’s pedagogical, cognitive, and ethical implications.

Ethical Considerations and Summary

Although no human participants were involved, ethical standards were maintained by accurately representing sources and providing proper citations. The study emphasizes transparency in methodology, allowing readers to trace the origin of ideas and assess the validity of interpretations. It is important to note that findings are contingent upon the available literature and may not reflect emerging Al technologies or educational practices. Nevertheless, the literature-based and conceptual approach provides a solid foundation for understanding current scholarly perspectives and informs the subsequent Results and Discussion sections.

Results

The literature review reveals several significant ways in which Artificial Intelligence (Al) can contribute to the development of students’ critical thinking skills. Three overarching themes emerged from the analysis: (1) personalized and adaptive learning, (2) interactive problem-solving and analytical reasoning, and (3) potential cognitive risks and challenges associated with Al use in educational settings.

Personalized and Adaptive Learning

A consistent finding across multiple studies is that Al systems can deliver personalized learning experiences that cater to individual students’ abilities, learning pace, and knowledge gaps. Adaptive learning platforms utilize algorithms to continuously assess learners’ performance and adjust the content accordingly. For example, Al-based tutoring systems can provide additional exercises for students struggling with specific concepts while advancing learners who demonstrate mastery. Personalized learning not only improves comprehension but also encourages self-regulated learning, a crucial component of critical thinking. By continuously monitoring their progress and reflecting on feedback, students develop metacognitive skills that enable them to evaluate their own understanding and reasoning processes. Moreover, adaptive systems often present differentiated problem sets, prompting learners to explore multiple approaches and solutions rather than relying on a single method, thus enhancing flexibility in thought.

Interactive Problem-Solving and Analytical Reasoning

Another prominent theme is Al’s role in creating interactive and engaging problem-solving environments. Intelligent simulations, virtual laboratories, and scenario-based learning platforms immerse students in complex, real-world situations that require analytical reasoning and decision-making. In such contexts, students must identify relevant variables, evaluate potential outcomes, and justify their choices all central components of critical thinking. For instance, Al-driven science simulations allow students to experiment with chemical reactions or physics phenomena in a risk-free virtual environment. Through repeated trial-and-error processes, learners engage in hypothesis testing, observation, and analysis, which reinforces higher-order cognitive skills.

Similarly, adaptive discussion platforms guided by Al can prompt students to critically evaluate peer contributions, identify logical inconsistencies, and defend their reasoning, thereby fostering reflective judgment and argumentation skills. The literature also highlights Al’s capacity to provide immediate and targeted feedback, which encourages iterative learning. Feedback systems. can identify misconceptions, suggest corrective actions, and pose challenging questions that prompt learners to reconsider their assumptions. Such mechanisms enhance critical inquiry by creating an ongoing dialogue between the learner and the Al system, ultimately strengthening analytical thinking.

Cognitive Risks and Challenges

Despite the clear benefits, scholars have noted several potential risks associated with Al integration in education. A primary concern is cognitive overreliance, where students depend excessively on Al tools to solve problems rather than engaging in independent reasoning. Over time, this may lead to superficial learning and diminished capacity for original thought. Another challenge is the ethical and pedagogical implications of Al-mediated instruction. Automated feedback may inadvertently reflect algorithmic biases or limited contextual understanding, which can misguide learners if not properly supervised by educators.

Additionally, the design and implementation of Al tools often favor measurable outcomes, such as test scores or completion rates, which may undervalue nuanced aspects of critical thinking, including creativity, skepticism, and evaluative judgment. The literature further emphasizes the importance of teacher mediation in mitigating these risks. Al systems alone cannot cultivate critical thinking; they must be integrated within a pedagogically sound framework that encourages reflection, discussion, and guided exploration. Teachers play a crucial role in interpreting Al feedback, prompting deeper inquiry, and scaffolding students’ reasoning processes to ensure meaningful cognitive engagement. Overall, the reviewed literature demonstrates that Al can significantly enhance students’ critical thinking skills when implemented thoughtfully. Personalized and adaptive learning environments improve self-regulation and metacognitive reflection, while interactive problem-solving platforms cultivate analytical reasoning and decision-making capabilities. However, potential risks such as overreliance, ethical concerns, and algorithmic limitations necessitate careful pedagogical planning and ongoing teacher involvement.

These findings suggest a dual requirement for successful Al integration in education: technology must be designed to support cognitive growth, and educators must actively guide students in engaging critically with Al-mediated learning experiences. In this way, Al becomes a cognitive partner rather than a replacement for human reasoning, aligning with the overarching goal of fostering independent, reflective, and analytically capable learners.

Discussion

Pedagogical Implications

The findings indicate that Artificial Intelligence (Al) can act as a cognitive scaffold, enhancing students’ critical thinking skills by providing personalized, adaptive, and interactive learning experiences. Personalized learning systems adjust content according to students’ abilities, pace, and knowledge gaps, promoting self-regulated learning and metacognitive reflection. By engaging students in challenges at appropriate cognitive levels, Al encourages deeper understanding, flexibility in thought, and higher-order cognitive skills, consistent with Bloom’s Taxonomy and Dewey’s reflective thinking framework.

Moreover, Al facilitates collaborative learning by simulating discussions, peer feedback, and interactive problem-solving scenarios. These environments prompt students to justify reasoning, evaluate alternative viewpoints, and engage in evidence-based argumentation, which are essential elements of critical thinking. Al thus augments instructional strategies rather than replacing teachers, providing actionable insights for pedagogical decision-making.

Ethical Considerations

Despite pedagogical advantages, Al integration raises several ethical concerns. A major issue is cognitive overreliance, where students might depend excessively on Al guidance, undermining independent analytical skills. Algorithmic biases also pose risks, as Al feedback may unintentionally reflect cultural, social, or epistemic prejudices inherent in training datasets. Educators must mediate Al outputs, guiding students to critically evaluate recommendations and develop independent judgment. Additionally, Al platforms often prioritize measurable outcomes, such as test scores or completion rates, which may neglect nuanced dimensions of critical thinking, including creativity, reflective reasoning, and ethical judgment. Ensuring privacy and data security further underscores the need for responsible Al deployment in educational contexts.

Integrating AI with Traditional Pedagogy

Successful Al integration requires balanced pedagogical strategies. While Al provides adaptive feedback and interactive learning environments, teachers play a crucial role in scaffolding learning, prompting reflection, and facilitating discussion. Educators can contextualize Al feedback, design targeted interventions, and encourage students to engage with complex, open-ended problems. This synergy between Al and human instruction ensures that learners develop not only analytical and evaluative skills but also ethical reasoning, creativity, and reflective judgment. Al thus functions as a cognitive partner, enhancing rather than replacing human pedagogical expertise.

Limitations and Future Directions

Several limitations must be acknowledged. Most studies reviewed focus on short-term interventions or small-scale implementations, limiting generalizability. Additionally, rapid technological advancements mean that existing research may not capture the latest Al functionalities or long-term educational effects. Future research should investigate longitudinal impacts of Al on critical thinking, strategies to mitigate cognitive overreliance, and the role of teacher mediation in enhancing learning outcomes. Exploring these areas will provide deeper insights into responsible and effective Al integration in education.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Al holds considerable promise for fostering students’ critical thinking skills when implemented thoughtfully. Personalized, adaptive, and interactive technologies enhance metacognitive reflection, analytical reasoning, and evaluative judgment, but these benefits are contingent upon careful pedagogical planning, ethical consideration, and active teacher involvement. By balancing Al capabilities with human guidance, learners can develop into reflective, independent, and analytically capable thinkers prepared for the challenges of the 21st century.

The present study highlights the transformative potential of Artificial Intelligence (Al) in enhancing students’ critical thinking skills within educational settings. The literature demonstrates that Al can provide personalized and adaptive learning experiences, allowing students to engage with content at appropriate levels of difficulty, monitor their progress, and reflect critically on their problem-solving strategies. By fostering metacognitive skills and encouraging self-regulated learning, Al contributes to the development of higher-order cognitive abilities, including analytical reasoning, evaluative judgment, and reflective thinking. Furthermore, Al facilitates interactive problem-solving and collaborative learning, creating opportunities for learners to evaluate multiple perspectives, justify their reasoning, and engage in evidence-based argumentation.

Despite these benefits, the study also emphasizes the importance of ethical and pedagogical considerations. Cognitive overreliance on Al may hinder independent reasoning and creativity, while algorithmic biases and privacy concerns necessitate careful monitoring and responsible use of Al technologies. Successful integration therefore requires that teachers actively mediate Al-supported learning, contextualize feedback, and scaffold reflective and evaluative activities. This combined approach ensures that students develop not only cognitive skills but also ethical reasoning and independent judgment, allowing Al to function as a partner in cognitive development rather than a replacement for human guidance.

The limitations of current research underscore the need for further studies exploring long-term impacts, diverse educational contexts, and strategies to mitigate cognitive overreliance. Future investigations should also examine the evolving capabilities of Al technologies and their implications for pedagogy, ensuring that educational practices remain aligned with both cognitive and ethical objectives. By addressing these gaps, educators and policymakers can optimize Al integration to enhance learning outcomes while maintaining academic rigor and integrity.

In summary, Al holds substantial promise for cultivating critical thinking skills, provided it is implemented thoughtfully, ethically, and in conjunction with effective teaching strategies. When leveraged appropriately, Al-supported learning environments can empower students to become autonomous, reflective, and analytically capable thinkers, equipped to navigate complex, information-rich, and rapidly evolving knowledge landscapes of the 21st century. The findings of this study contribute to a deeper understanding of how Al can be harnessed to promote not only cognitive growth but also responsible and reflective learning practices, offering valuable insights for educators, researchers, and policymakers committed to advancing educational innovation.

References

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To‘laganova Muxlisa G‘ulomovna was born on April 20, 2006, in Zomin district of the Jizzakh region. She received her secondary education at School No. 47 named after Khayrulla Akhmedov in Zomin district, where she studied from 2013 to 2024.

At present, she is a second-year student at the Uzbekistan State World Languages University, majoring in English Philology. Alongside her academic studies, she is an active member of the “Aurora” volleyball team and has achieved success in several sports competitions.

Muxlisa has also been actively involved in social and environmental initiatives, including the “By” and “Eco Marathon” projects. In addition, she has participated in various scientific conferences and is the author of several academic articles.

The lingering polyhedron

The word for the day is dodec-

ahedron. Why?  Why not?  It

sounds good, is reminiscent of

the age of the dinosaurs. A text-

book might easily now say “The

dodecahedron was twelve times

the size of T.Rex. Might have been

known as D.Rex, but preferred

the politics of the backroom, of

being the unseen power behind

the throne.  Managed to miss the

meteor shower.  Is still around.”

prudent, expedient, proper

Aristotle found another way to use

alternatives. Said it depended on

the audience, & how one modeled

a choice point in a context hierarchy.

Also added there may not necessarily 

be a single right answer to be found.

Developmental Synthesis

This surgeon friend of the family 

operates out of & in the local gas station

is known to prefer a rusty telescope 

over a scalpel when performing 

such procedures as critical heart 

bypasses or tedious tonsillectomies.

± 

It is as if I am walking underwater, or, rather, not walking, since the tide I am pushing against is not strong enough to drive me back but too strong to allow me to progress. My lungs ache, my head beats, my heart does nothing — the other two appurtenances have subsumed its activities. I am swathed in water. They are lining up terracotta poems in channels on both sides of me.

(Untitled)

Sound travels at. So the

        plane is almost

level with you before

the engines are heard.

        What else travels

like that? Only death.