The ship of the moon raised its sails
It went towards the constellation star
At that moment, a poet shrugs his shoulders
He began to write a series of poems
Spruce branches bent
It showed respect to everyone
The poet poured himself into the poem
The winds danced
The elegant lawns were swaying
They were having fun whispering
They would say to each other:
"I wish the poet would say his poem"
But the poet was still silent
He closes his eyes and shakes his head
To the black cloud that roamed the sky
He sometimes frowns
Like it inspired him
A brook flowed beside him
The poet's thoughts roamed the world
In the bosom of the blue sea
The poet plucked words from his heart
The world could not bear it
The morning began to shine suddenly
The sun came out of the poem

Author: Umid Qodir. Young Uzbek poet. 
Translator: Nigora Muhammad