Our new Uzbekistan Yes, I am that even by the residents of other rich, developed countries I was born in Uzbekistan, a unique country described as a “Paradise land”. First of all, thank God for this. This country is truly a paradise. Its nature, scenery, air, delicacies, friendly and hospitable people, everything is special. Day by day, the example of a new bride in our country is becoming more beautiful and polished. Whether there is a living soul living in this land, whether it is a human, an animal or a plant, everyone is happy to be born in this land, in this wonderful place. There are countries where you won’t find a single flower that is a symbol of beauty that will bring you a smile and a good mood. There are countries where you cannot find a child who can be a support to his parents who raised him and loved him in his old age. But God’s eyes fell on our country and everything was given in abundance. Alhamdulillah. The leader of our country, our father, our first president, Islam Karimov, did not stop until our country reached this level. They said that they are my people, whether they walk or stand. They saw people as their family members. They paid special attention to us young people. They said to themselves, “Our children must be stronger, more educated, stronger and certainly happier than us!” they put the slogan. In a word, every Uzbek, along with our compatriots, was able to take an indelible place in the hearts of the people of other countries. Today, their follower, our new president, Shavkat Mirziyaev, is continuing the work of our first president, Islam Karimov, for the peace, prosperity, and further development of our country. They are working day and night for the prosperity of our country, for the peaceful and happy life of our people, for us young people to get a good education and never be inferior to anyone else. After all, isn’t this the land under God’s eyes. The people under God’s eyes? Isn’t this the nation on which the bird of happiness landed? Yes, this happiness is not for everyone. It is the duty of each of us to preserve this happiness. It is our great goal of every young generation to protect our country, which is growing and developing day by day. Our country is changing day by day, even a person who lives here and goes to study or work in another country for a short period of time comes back and is surprised by the changes. Our country is surprising the world. The leader of our country, our grandfather, is never tired of striving for the prosperity and development of our country, just as the bees never get tired of gathering honey and keeping it. There is a big difference between Uzbekistan five years ago and today’s Uzbekistan. In a short period of time, the people of our country have achieved great achievements that have made our country take a worthy place in the world community. He introduced a number of reforms and innovations to our country. Our country has entered a qualitatively new stage of its independent development, New Uzbekistan. And this New Uzbekistan is developed on the basis of the principles of friendly cooperation with the world community, strictly following the recognized norms and principles of democracy, human rights and freedoms, and the ultimate goal is to create a free, prosperous and prosperous life for the people. It was proudly mentioned by a number of editors. The phrase “New Uzbekistan” means, first of all, a new life, new reforms, a new way of life, a new worldview. In this regard, we cannot count the achievements made during the past 5 years. During these 5 years, our country has developed more and has more unique landscapes. It proved that it will not be left behind by other developed beautiful countries. Developed in every way. Of course, these achievements are based on strong knowledge. The owners of this knowledge are our peers, young people, people of our country. After all, our first president Islam Karimov said, “The future of Uzbekistan is in the hands of the youth!” they hardly boasted. This is the future! And Uzbekistan is in the hands of our youth. We must make it more prosperous, raise it further, justify the trust given to us. In a word, we should join hands, tie our waists tightly, and live for the country and the people with enthusiasm! For Homeland My grandfather said, "My child this world is yours. Gird up your loins, you are a flower in the mountains. Live for this country, let it be self-sacrificing soul, Be great like your ancestors, white blood in your veins. Don't give away your cradle, open to the people your door, Try with all your heart, may luck be always with you. This beautiful country is for you, for a black eye is yours Let's hold hands, let's live for the Motherland too. Since the new Uzbekistan is being built for us, we should live for our homeland. our country, our people, and work together wholeheartedly. We must justify the trust given to the youth. We need to improve our new Uzbekistan and make it flourish. We are proud to live in such a heavenly country, and it is our main duty to protect every inch of its soil like our own home. It is a dream for some to see the beauty of our new Uzbekistan, and some dream of living in other countries. And we are in this country. We should be thankful that we are among the people whom God loves.
Essay from Mamatkasimova Sitora
From one street of my life paths... I remember...My childhood began in a beautiful place called Mirzaabad and still continues in the warm embrace of this place. When I was young, I remember waiting for my mother's hot loaves in the oven to be ready... I have loved books since I was young. And this light led me to the "Knowledge Competition" held earlier at school. Because I fell in love with the book, I became the absolute winner of the republican stage of this competition. It is not surprising that the feeling of interest in creativity awakened in my heart even then. I still remember the first poem I wrote in my school days: Hello, my daughter-in-law is Spring I miss you so much I was waiting for you to come You are a beautiful garden. Here, you entered my beautiful nature Spreading the scent of flowers to the green world, Now don't go to other countries Your daughter Sitora will miss you. It's true, maybe this poem, which came out of my young heart at that time, has no rhyme, no meaning, but it was the first melody of a young heart... Years have passed since then. The golden pages of the book invited me to Gulistan State University. I remember my high school years... When I was preparing for Oliykhoh, I read books under an umbrella despite the snowflakes and raindrops falling. Perhaps, because of these hardships, I have achieved the happiness of being a student... I would like to thank life and fate for these great rewards. I bow down a thousand times to my parents who stood by me and supported me in my bold steps. I still have high hopes for life. Praise be to my God who created me... I am thankful that my life is beautiful and bright... Currently, I am teaching and educating young people at school 34, Boyovut district. When I see hope for life and confidence in the future in young souls, my interest in life increases. The high status of "MASTER" coming from their tongues makes me hope to live yet. Maybe my life is beautiful with such memorable moments...
Poetry from John Culp
+ Oh, Really This Fresh Creation of Works without form Says without Starting and Starts before Born This has no reflection Yet said to reflect Then carry one's Heart towards what to expect Freshly creates Where time holds in stance Life carries Completion The form is a Dance At the end of each Dance LOVE'S Spirit Remains You Like it , just name it. Gifts come without names ... by John Edward Culp December 10, 2016
Poetry from Teya Cooksey – Voytenko
i used to have a swing. when i was little. it hung on the tree outside of my house. and i remember i used to spend hours on the thing swinging higher and higher hoping i could touch the stars. swing to smth else. outside of my current life. but one of my most vivid memories w that swing is my dad screaming at me from the porch. i can't tell if he was mad or scared. i js remeber his face. scrunched and twisted. his words that were vibrating in my skull. each one tearing into my brain a little more. making a new line. the swing’s gone now. it was taken down years ago. and i can no longer touch the stars
Poetry from Kang Byeong Chen
Sounds of Bamboo Forest No matter how strong the wind blows, the green forest never crumbles. When the wind passes by, the green forest stands tall and proud, inspiring admiration. The sounds of bamboo forest, echo through the trees, whispers of wisdom and peace, carried on the gentle breeze. A symphony of rustling leaves, Soft words win hard hearts, a melody of harmony, ringing in the bamboo forest glen. So let the forest speak to you, let its wisdom guide your way, listen to the sounds of bamboo, and find peace in each passing day. 대나무 숲의 소리 아무리 강한 바람이 불어도 푸른 숲은 무너지지 않아 바람이 지나가면 푸른 숲은 높고 자랑스러운 모습으로 서 있어, 감탄할 만한 영감을 주지 대나무 숲의 소리, 나무들 사이에 울려 퍼지지, 지혜와 평화의 속삭임, 부드러운 바람에 실리지. 속삭이는 잎들의 교향곡, 부드러움이 강한 것을 이겨, 대나무 숲의 계곡에서 울리는 화음 숲이 말하는 것을 듣고 지혜의 길로 이끌게 두라 대나무의 소리를 들으며, 하루하루 평화를 찾을 수 있으리니 The Sharp Rocks by the Seashore Even the strong black rocks can be shattered by the waves the never-tiring power of the waves. I used to be one of the sea's sharp rocks, strong and sharp-edged, fighting against the waves. Now, I have crumbled into a round pebble, having learned a lesson over time. Softness can conquer strength, and the pen is mightier than the sword. The truth of the universe, Sharp rocks turn into pebbles, and sharp things change into round and soft things. The pebbles playing with the waves on the shore, no longer fight against the waves. They live in harmony with the peaceful waves. 바닷가의 날카로운 바위 강한 검은 바위도 파도에 부서지지 지치지 않는 파도의 힘을 당할 수 없어 나는 바다의 검은 바위였어 강하고 날카로운 모서리로 파도와 싸웠지 이제, 나는 부서져 내리고 둥근 조약돌이 되었어 오랜 시간 배운 교훈이지 부드러운 것이 강한 것을 이겨 칼보다 펜이 더 강해 우주의 진리 날카로운 바위는 조약돌로 바뀌고 날카로운 것은 둥글고 부드러운 것으로 변해 해안에서 파도와 노는 조약돌은 이제 파도와 싸우지 않아 조화로운 파도와 조약돌의 평화 Endurance of the Shoebill In the wetlands of Uganda, a bird stands tall, unending tranquility, waiting for food Its massive bill shaped like a shoe, ready to haul. With patience and poise, it stands in the water, Waiting for prey to come, it doesn't falter. Its eyes are sharp, its focus intense, The shoebill picks food with skill and sense. With lightning speed, it strikes at its prey, Its powerful beak leaving no delay. Through thick and thin, the shoebill endures, Through harsh climates, it steadfastly ensures, Its survival and place in this world, Its determination, never give up. From dawn to dusk, it forages on, Until the day is done and night has drawn. The shoebill is a creature of strength and might, A symbol of endurance, a wondrous sight. 슈빌의 인내와 끈기 우간다 늪지대, 그곳에 큰 새가 서 있네 신발 같은 큰 부리를 가진, 그 새가 차분하게 물속에서 기다리네 먹이를 기다리며, 끝이 보이지 않는 물 위에 선 고요 날카로운 눈, 집중하는 시선, 먹이를 고르는 그 새는 대단하지 빠르게 부리로 내리치며, 주저없이 먹이를 잡는 강한 부리의 힘 변함없이 견뎌내는 새 극한의 환경을 이겨낸 새, 이 세상에서의 생존과 존재감, 절대 지지 않겠다는 그 각오 새벽부터 저녁까지 사냥하고, 낮이 가고 밤이 깊어질 때까지, 그 새는 끊임없이 먹잇감을 찾지. 그 새는 인내와 끈기의 생명체, 환상적인 모습, 그대로 인내의 상징.
Kang Byeong-Cheol is a Korean author, poet, translator, and holder of a Doctor of Philosophy in Political Science degree. He was born in Jeju City, South Korea in 1964, and began his writing career in 1993. His first short story, “Song of Shuba,” was published when he was twenty-nine years old.
In 2005, Kang published a collection of short stories and has since won four literature awards, publishing over eight books in total. He was a member of The Writers in Prison Committee (WiPC) of PEN International from 2009 to 2014. From 2018 to 2022, he served as Secretary General of the Jeju Unification Education Center. Prior to that, he was a Specially Appointed Professor at Jeju International University from 2016 to 2018, a Research Professor at Chungnam National University National Defense Institute from 2013 to 2016, a Senior Researcher at the Society of Ieodo Research from 2010 to 2017, and CEO of Online News Media Jejuin News from 2010 to 2013.
Kang also worked as an editorial writer for NewJejuIlbo, a newspaper in Jeju City, Korea. Currently, he holds the position of Research Executive at The Korean Institute for Peace and Cooperation.
Story from Russell Streur
BUSON’S ADVICE: HAIKU OF THE FOUR ELDERS Bashō, Buson, Issa and Shiki first by the judgment of the years, but then who? Buson said: “Seek out Kikaku, visit Ransetsu, recite Sodō, and accompany Onitsura. Meet those four elders every day.” For today, then, knocking on Kikaku’s door, a visit with Ransetsu, and a walk with Onitsura. But Sodō--he’s hurrying off to the melon patch. Another time for that one. Overtures Waking before dawn, see How the constellations Are all Turned around! --Ransetsu tr. Harry Behn and Peter Beilenson Every morning Shaking out the fireflies When drying the straw rain-coat. -- Ransetsu tr. R. H. Blyth (1) In my four-foot bamboo hut this spring, There is nothing; there is everything. -- Sodō tr. Harold Stewart The Great Morning The Great Morning Winds of long ago Blow through the pine trees. -- Onitsura tr. R H. Blyth (2) Its first note; The uguiso Is upside down. -- Kikaku tr. R. H. Blyth (3) Here water, And there water, The waters of spring. -- Onitsura tr. R H. Blyth (3) The cool breeze Fills the empty vault of heaven With the voice of the pine-tree. -- Onitsura tr. R H. Blyth (4) The wind ceases; Water drips in the forest; A kankodori sings. -- Kikaku tr. R. H. Blyth (4) Above the pilgrims Chanting On a misty road Wild geese are flying. -- Ransetsu tr. Harry Behn and Peter Beilenson Lightning flashing All night in the east This morning Smoulders in the west. -- Kikaku tr. Harry Behn and Peter Beilenson At last, when her song Is still The goddess becomes A small green bird. -- Onitsura tr. Harry Behn and Peter Beilenson Melon Patch The morning after the storm; The melons alone Know nothing of it. -- Sodō tr. R. H. Blyth (4) Gathering young greens In the garden, they called out To a kerchief. -- Kikaku tr. R. H. Blyth (3) Pale, the yellow rose In spring already—bitter Too, the lettuce grows. --- Sodō tr. Kenneth Yasuda Able to look after Its own self,-- The melon. -- Ransetsu tr. R. H. Blyth (1) Pleasure Quarter A courtesan enclosure A hototogisu sings In the dawn I am made to buy an umbrella. -- Kikaku tr. R. H. Blyth (2) The whole tenement house, Having locked their doors, Are dancing and dancing. -- Kikaku tr. R. H. Blyth (5) Catching goby; A river village, a mountain quarter, A wine-shop flag in the wind. -- Ransetsu tr. R. H. Blyth (4) Dolls for Sale There a beggar goes! Heaven and earth he’s wearing For his summer clothes. -- Kikaku tr. Harold Henderson A summer shower; A woman sits alone, Gazing outside. -- Kikaku tr. R. H. Blyth (4) A childless woman… How tenderly she touches Little dolls for sale. -- Ransetsu tr. Peter Beilenson (2) Moon Viewing A copper pheasant wakes with shrill-edged cry; The silver crescent cuts the chilly sky. -- Kikaku tr. Harold Stewart Harvest moon is bright, Casting the shadows of pine On the mats tonight! -- Kikaku tr. Kenneth Yasuda This autumn With no child on my lap Gazing at the moon. -- Onitsura tr. Adam Kern The frenzied dash and dart of dragonflies Is stilled: a crescent moon begins to rise. --Kikaku tr. Harold Stewart Painting pines The blue sky The moon tonight -- Ransetsu tr. Geoffrey Bownas and Anthony Thwaite Harvest moon, And mist creeping Over the water -- Ransetsu tr. Geoffrey Bownas and Anthony Thwaite Leading me along My shadow goes back home, From looking at the moon. -- Sodō tr. Harold Henderson Night How cool things are: The coolest—on Musashi Plain A falling star. -- Kikaku tr. Harold Henderson To bring me the flowers,-- Oh, that the evening path of the messenger May be moon-lit! -- Kikaku tr. R. H. Blyth (3) Stillness . . . then the bat Flying among The willows Black against green sky. -- Kikaku tr. Peter Beilenson (1) Come come! Come out! From bogs old frogs Command the dark And look . . . the stars! -- Kikaku tr. Peter Beilenson (1) In stony moonlight Hills and fields On every side White and bald as eggs . . . -- Ransetsu tr. Harry Behn and Peter Beilenson A bowel-freezing night The sound of an oar striking the wave,-- Tears. -- Kikaku tr. R. H. Blyth (2) Blossoms On top of skeletons They put on a gala dress, and then— the flower-viewing! -- Onitsura tr. Harold Henderson Over and over, Sprinkled over by blossoms Drowsily drowsily. -- Onitsura tr. Adam Kern The cherry blossoms having fallen, Enjôji Temple Is quiet once more. -- Onitsura tr. R H. Blyth (2) Oh, how green The threads of the willow, Over the stilling waters! -- Onitsura tr. R H. Blyth (3) The wild cherry: Stones also are singing their songs In the valley stream. -- Onitsura tr. R H. Blyth (3) When cherry trees bloom Birds have two legs Horses four --Onitsura tr. Faubion Bowers Gusty spring breezes . . . But the stubborn Plum buds still Gripping their thin twigs. -- Onitsura tr. Peter Beilenson (3) Silent the garden Where the Camellia-tree Opens its whiteness. -- Onitsura tr. Peter Beilenson (3) A blossom of the plum, A blossom’s worth Of warmth. -- Ransetsu tr. R. H. Blyth (1) Tea Bowls Evening squall! Scampering among the houses, Squawking ducks. -- Kikaku tr. Adam Kern A tree frog, clinging To a banana leaf— And swinging, swinging. -- Kikaku tr. Harold Henderson Play about, O, fair Beads of dew, from one grass-leaf To another there! -- Ransetsu tr. Kenneth Yasuda The grain of rice Stuck on my face I gave to a fly. -- Ransetsu tr. R. H. Blyth (1) No letter No message,-- Five rice dumplings in bamboo leaves. -- Ransetsu tr. R. H. Blyth (1) The pine cricket Does not make a sound - This black bowl -- Ransetsu tr. R. H. Blyth (2) Flying in from the bamboo-blind The swallow is tame With the beautiful girl. -- Ransetsu tr. R. H. Blyth (3) Catching the reflection Of the yamabuki, The spring is yellow. -- Ransetsu tr. R. H. Blyth (3) The pampas grass,-- It sums up all The loneliness of Saga. -- Ransetsu tr. R. H. Blyth (5) Seasons New Year’s Day Dawns clear, and sparrows Tell their tales. -- Ransetsu tr. Geoffrey Bownas and Anthony Thwaite In the New Year dawn Solemn and Deliberate Tall cranes go marching. -- Kikaku tr. Peter Beilenson (1) Green cornfield: A skylark soaring, There—swooping. -- Onitsura tr. Geoffrey Bownas and Anthony Thwaite Even I who have No lover . . . I love this time Of new kimonos. -- Onitsura tr. Harry Behn and Peter Beilenson Daybreak— On the corn shoots White frost of spring. -- Onitsura tr. Geoffrey Bownas and Anthony Thwaite In spring, frogs sing; In summer, They bark. -- Onitsura tr. R H. Blyth (3) Trout leaping: On the river-bed Clouds floating. -- Onitsura tr. Geoffrey Bownas and Anthony Thwaite How hot, on afternoons without a breeze, The cobwebs hanging from the dusty trees! -- Onitsura tr. Harold Stewart How woeful The wail of a cicada Caught by a hawk. -- Ransetsu tr. Adam Kern Paulownia leaves Scatter, crinkle, one by one On the breeze. -- Ransetsu tr. Adam Kern Winter having come, The crows perch On the scarecrow. -- Kikaku. tr. R.H. Blyth (5) Blue-shadow-bolted . . . The castle gate Of Edo In frozen moonlight. -- Kikaku tr. Peter Beilenson (3) Afterwords The table of the spirits; Dew, and tears, These are the oil. -- Ransetsu tr. R. H. Blyth (5) A leaf is falling… Alas alas another And another Falls. -- Ransetsu tr. Harry Behn and Peter Beilenson And so the spring buds burst, and so I gaze, And so the blossoms fall, and so my days . . . -- Onitsura tr. Harold Stewart Biographical Notes Takarai Kikaku (1661—1707) The son of a physician, Kikaku followed a muse instead of the family practice and became one of Bashō’s most accomplished students. He studied Confucianism, Chinese poetry and painting. His account of Bashō’s death can be found here: http://simplyhaiku.com/SHv4n3/features/Nobuyuki.html Uejima Onitsura (1661—1738) Born into a family of saké brewers, Onitsura sold his share of the family business to a younger brother and immersed himself in the study of poetry. His efforts to elevate the writing of haiku from a parlor game to a serious form of literature have historically been overlooked and over-shadowed by the Bashō narrative. Current scholarship credits him with equal and independent contributions. Hattori Ransetsu (1654—1707) Eldest son of a low-level samurai and a disciple of Bashō, Ransetsu studied Zen under Saiun Hōjō and painting from Itchō. R. H. Blyth states he was born in a farmer’s house and served several feudal lords as a samurai. One account states Ransetsu's first wife was a bathing house prostitute. She died after giving birth to a son, whereupon Ransetsu took a geisha as his wife. His poetry first appeared during 1680 in a pair of anthologies compiled by Bashō. He was numbered among the Ten Philosophers of Bashō’s circle of students. He shaved his head and became a monk when Bashō died in 1695. His poem on the master’s passing: Sent off By the winter blast His retreating figure. Ransetsu’s religious convictions did not prevent him from continuing his writing although he did not leave behind a large volume of work. He was known as an established poet by 1702 and he authored a diary of his travels to Southern Japan three years later. Little is known of his own death in 1707. Yamaguchi Sodō (1642—1716) Said to have been employed as a flood control engineer, Sodō studied the tea ceremony, calligraphy, and Confucianism. He lived for a time near the lotus-filled Shinobazu-no-Ike Pond in Ueno. Sources of the translations Adam Kern, The Penguin Book of Haiku Faubion Bowers, The Classic Tradition of Haiku Geoffrey Bownas and Anthony Thwaite, The Penguin Book of Japanese Verse Harold Henderson, An Introduction to Haiku Harold Stewart, A Net of Fireflies Harry Behn and Peter Beilenson, Haiku Harvest Kenneth Yasuda, A Pepper-Pod: A Haiku Sampler Peter Beilenson (1), Japanese Haiku Peter Beilenson (2), The Four Seasons Peter Beilenson (3), Cherry Blossoms R. H. Blyth (1), A History of Haiku Volume One R. H. Blyth (2), Haiku I: Eastern Culture R. H. Blyth (3), Haiku II: Spring R. H. Blyth (4), Haiku III: Summer/Autumn R. H. Blyth (5), Haiku IV: Autumn/Winter
Music-Themed Haiku from Maurizio Brancaleoni
Per Urna Chahar-Tugchi S. Maria in Aracoeli 26-12-2022 Santo Stefano: la sua voce raggiunge l'Ara del cielo For Urna Chahar-Tugchi St. Maria in Aracoeli 12-26-2022 On Saint Stephen's Day — her voice reaches into the Altar of the sky Beatrice Rana: il legno carezzato dal vino vecchio Beatrice Rana — the wood caressed by old wine Prokofiev: dopo la sonata riposo per il violino Prokofiev —needing rest after the sonata the violin messa a Natale: ogni canto tradotto in lievi gesti Christmas Mass — every chant translated in light gestures Maurizio Brancaleoni has had poetry and prose published in numerous journals and anthologies. He has a bilingual blog where he posts literary gems, interviews and translations.