Poetry from Sitora Otajonova

Selfie of a teen Central Asian girl with long dark hair, a black tee shirt, a silver necklace and earrings.
A person always lives because of the law,
Even if there is no law, there are few good things.
All feelings will be a mirage,
Blood and wine flowed from the cabbage.
Therefore, a new book was opened,
No-one does anything.
The law is equal for all,
Everyone is fighting.
Now the shadow at the beginning of the country will leave,
Twenty people's bread is baked
And now everyone helps.
Even the rain doesn't turn into puddles.
There is no stain on our country,
Now let the city and the garden flourish
I'll tell you what's in my heart
Let's keep our country alive.

Sitora Otajonova is Sodirjon's daughter. She was born on 20 December in 2005.She is studying at school in 11th class. She is crazy about writing poems and reading books. Her poems and articles are printed international journals.

Poetry from Nilufar Anvarova

Young Central Asian woman in a cream colored blouse and tan skirt with long dark hair sits on a wooden bench outside a building.

Book

People say the book

Knowledge, the lamp of the mind.

If someone doesn’t like a book,

Crystal is his motto.

A boy who reads a book

Forget loneliness.

Your secrets of friendship to him,

The book is slow.

Welcome to the book.

They share happiness and joy.

Therefore, the book

They sing with interest.

My life without books

I can’t imagine.

If I don’t read a book,

I do not know the secret of the world.

Changed my life

The themes of this book.

The book really gives,

Wonders of the world.

My advice to my friends,

Read more books.

If you read a lot of books,

You will get a lot of shouts!

Short story from Bill Tope

Candy Bill


Meryl stood with her two sisters, peeping through the display window of the candy shop, and silently observing the striking array of sweets which were perched upon beautiful crystal dishes and vivid red skirting. Meryl licked her pale pink lips. At her side stood Wendy who, at seven, was three years younger. And next to Wendy and leaning with her nose against the window, was Karen, the baby, at four years of age. All three girls' mouths were watering.

On a step ladder next to, but totally ignored by, the girls was Albert Weissmann, AKA Candy Bill, the proprietor for whom the shop was eponymously named. Bill was busily squirting the already shiny glass with glass cleaner and wiping it even cleaner. Meryl fretted that they were creating a nuisance. Her father had told her to steer clear of Mr. Weissmann; he was a cranky old guy. According to her papa, he had lost family in the war, years before. One never knew what might set him off.

"Do you think we'll get some candy for Christmas," Wendy asked, turning to regard her older sibling. Karen hung on Meryl's reply.

"Don't be silly," scolded Meryl. "We're Jewish," she reminded the other two girls. "We don't believe in Christmas."

Little Karen's face puckered up and she looked as if she might cry. "Not  fair," she said, pouting. Her faded print dress hung limply from thin shoulders.

"You're forgetting," Meryl reminded them, "that we have Hanukkah."

"Yay!" shrilled Karen happily. "We'll have gelt! Then we can buy candy!"

"But," said Meryl, pointing an admonishing forefinger at her younger sister, "we have to give part of our gelt to charity."

Karen instantly grew sober and nodded. "Yes," she agreed half- heartedly, "to charity."

"Can't we buy some candy now?" implored Wendy, dying to bite into a piece of chocolate.

"We don't have our gelt yet," replied Meryl. "We get it on the fifth day of Hanukkah, remember? This is just December 19th. The fifth day isn't until the 21st."

"But, Ruth gets gelt every night of Hanukkah," protested Wendy, referencing her best friend.

"Ruth's parents are rich," remarked Meryl a little sharply. "Mother and father have to work hard to earn what little we have." Bill glanced surreptitiously at the children.

Wendy remembered that Mr. Kaplan, Ruth's father, owned a string of shoe stores in the city, whereas Wendy's mother and father worked as a tailor and a housekeeper, respectively. Wendy dug the toe of her shoe into the pavement. "Yeah...."

Suddenly, Candy Bill descended from the ladder and nudged the girls back from the window. Spraying where they'd left smudges on the glass, he wiped the surface clean and glared pointedly at the sisters.

"C'mon," murmured Meryl, taking charge as she always did. "We hafta' get home. We have latkes tonight," she said with feigned enthusiasm. Even though she loved them, she knew they were a poor substitute for Candy Bill's home made chocolate, for her sisters. She placed a hand round each of her sisters and began to steer them away.

"Come back here," growled a stern voice over their shoulders. The girls froze and looked back to find Candy Bill standing formidably in the doorway to his candy shop.

"We were just leaving, Mr. Weissmann," squeaked Meryl at the imposing figure before them. Wendy's eyes grew large and Karen actually began to tremble with fear.

"Get in here," he ordered, holding wide the door. Terrified out of their wits, the children complied with the directive and filed timidly through the portal. Once inside, they breathed in the intoxicating aroma of fresh made candy: chocolate-covered caramels, sugar wafers, and Meryl's favorite, enormous bars of pure brown chocolate.

"We...we didn't do anything," murmured Meryl fearfully, wondering what offense the trio had committed.

"You were standing at the display window," charged Bill wrathfully. "Blocking my paying customers from getting into my shop. How am I supposed to make an honest living?" he demanded, and furrowed his silver brows menacingly.

"We...we...I," replied Meryl in bewilderment. Now Karen began to whimper.

Taking notice of her, Candy Bill's face suddenly creased into an enormous smile. "There, there, hertzele, cooed the bear of a man, gently touching her cheek. From a shelf he pulled three bright white bags loaded with candy. He presented the gifts to the little girls and smiled warmly at them. They stood, agape, until Bill, suddenly embarrassed by his own largesse, shooed them out of the shop. The two younger children danced merrily away, but Meryl paused for a moment and glanced back at her benefactor and gave him a dazzling smile of gratitude. He merely flicked his fingers in the opposite direction, and she likewise fled.

Candy Bill, his always busy shop now empty, walked back of the ice cream counter, past the many confectionery displays, and laid his hand on a photo, nearly twenty years old and fading. Across the photo, in the unsteady hand of a child, was written, "Love you, papa. Your sweet hertzele, Miriam."

Essay from Farangiz Abduvahidova

(Central Asian woman in a black and white coat and dress pants over a white ruffly blouse holding books and awards. Posters and poetry are on the wall behind her).

Zulfia’s life and the history of “Saodat” magazine.

Abduvahidova Farangiz 

2nd stage student of Samarkand State University named after Sharof Rashidov

Abstract: In this article, we will focus on the life and activities of our beloved poet Zulfia. Although Zulfiyakhanim faced many difficulties, she never stopped striving in life. She was able to be a selfless and loving mother for her children. In addition, she did not stop her creative activity. She also founded a publishing house to improve people’s education. Her services and cultural heritage for our youth are incomparable. A state prize in her name was also established for our female poets. 

Key words: Zulfiya, life path, woman, magazine, poem, “Worker”, “Happiness” 

A number of our linguists and literary experts have expressed their opinion about the poetess. For example, Azod Sharafiddinov, the national hero of Uzbekistan, “I miss you, sister Zulfia!” in the article entitled: “Zulfia is a famous poetess, a great statesman, active in public affairs, a person in the eyes of the people. But she was first of all a woman, and even when she was a woman, she was an Uzbek woman. She had a certain duty as a woman. She lost her husband Hamid Olimjon early, she raised their children by herself.

“- My sister Zulfia used to walk in big circles throughout her life. They held face-to-face conversations with scientists, poets, and politicians not only of our country, but also of sister republics, and many foreign countries. The sister was very proud. In some circles, as poets and publishers, they could not afford to lose to someone in debates about literature and history. Of course, the fact that they are interested in this field is the reason why they read classical literature, Eastern and Western literature in general, our own history, and also world history. But in order to be equal in circles, our teacher must have studied a lot. He knew our classical literature very well.”

Reporter of “New Uzbekison”.

    Mukhtasar Tojimamatova.  

Musurmonova Feruza (teacher of mother tongue and literary science at the comprehensive school No. 63 in Zhargorgan District, Surkhandarya Region) in her article on “The Uniqueness of Zulfia’s Life and Work” wrote: “To sum up In addition to being a poetess with a special place in Uzbek poetry, Mrs. Zulfiyakhanim was also a woman with all the noble qualities of this nation as a person. Today, by writing this article and taking a deeper look at Zulfiyakhanim’s work, I am once again convinced that no matter how many conflicting, difficult and complicated paths Uzbek literature has traveled in the 20th century, it has a number of literal creative people grew up and Zulfiyakhanim was one of the shining stars among them. In today’s days of independence, their creations are showing new aspects.

Zulfiyakhanim’s life and work is an example for all women. Because her hard work in life, her constant striving for progress, her faithfulness in love, her unceasing pursuit of artistic creativity, her persistence in the face of life’s difficulties, and the fact that she does not lose himself in the face of achievements, arouse envy in the heart of any girl or woman.

In her article “The Life and Unforgettable Work of the Uzbek Poet Zulfiya Khanim” under the theme of “Remembering Zulfiya” Shahida Zhoraboyeva, a second-year student of the Faculty of Preventive Medicine, wrote: In addition to being a poet with a special place, she was also a woman with all the noble qualities of this people as a person.

Today, by writing this article and taking a deeper look at Zulfiyakhanim’s work, I am once again convinced that no matter how many conflicting, difficult and complicated paths Uzbek literature has traveled in the 20th century, it has a good number of literary artists grew up and one of the shining stars among them was Zulfiyakhanim. In today’s days of independence, their creations are showing new aspects.

  Zulfiya Israilova, who is embodied in the image of a beloved poetess of our people, a devoted woman, was born on March 1, 1915. His father Ismail worked as a blacksmith. The famous writer began her first education in 1922-1931. For the next three years, she continued her education at the girls’ school. In 1935-1938, the poetess studied at the Institute of Language and Literature. Her first poem was published in “Ishchi” newspaper in 1931. In 1932, a collection of poems “Life Leaflets” was published. After that, her poetry books such as “Temiroy”, “She’rlar”, “Girls’ Song” were published. The greatest success of the poetess was brought to her by the collections “He called her Farhad”, “Hijran Kunlarida”, and “Hulkar”.

Due to the untimely death of her husband Hamid Olimjon, the poetess fell into a very depressed mood. Despite this, Zulfia took an active part in the movement of Asian and African writers of peace and international solidarity in the second half of the 1950s, and traveled to many countries of the world. It is no exaggeration to say that poems such as “Mushoira”, “My son won’t die of war”, “The dead of Kazakhstan”, “The picture I didn’t draw” brought Zulfia great fame.

She created “Lolaqizgaldok” series of poems dedicated to children. Based on the epic “Semurg or Parizod and Bunyod”, she wrote the play “Semurg” for the puppet theater and the libretto for the opera “Zaynab and Amon”. Many of her works have seen the world. Zulfia was a laureate of the international Jawaharlal Nehru (1968), “Nilufar” (1971) awards and the State Prize of Uzbekistan named after Hamza (1970). Sh translated the works of a number of writers such as A. S. Pushkin, N. A. Nekrasov, M. Vaqif, E. Ognetsvet, Mustay Karim, Amrita Pritam into Uzbek.

In order to show how incomparable her services are, the state award named after Zulfia was established. Our creator not only went down in history as a poetess, but also worked effectively in the fields of journalism and publishing. She did a lot of work in the field of publishing. To give an example, she was the editor of the children’s publishing house, the head of the department at the state publishing house of Uzbekistan, and she founded the “Saodat” magazine and worked as the editor-in-chief of this magazine for about thirty years.

Now, let’s talk about the history of “Saodat” magazine. The magazine is published in Azim Tashkent, our capital. It was brought to the attention of readers only eight times during one year. It was first published under the name “New Way” in 1925-1934. Later, it was published in 1936-1950 under the name “Bright Life”. Then it operated under the name “Women of Uzbekistan” from 1950 to 1965.

But due to some reasons or because of the war, it was not published within a certain period. The magazine contains short stories, poems, useful food recipes for our women and girls, and new, modern dress styles for the elderly. Among these are stories such as “Singer of Enlightenment”, “Rostonbuvi Told the Truth”, “Mother”, “Parnji is the beauty of the past”, “Songs”, “Kochaga Handon Uyga Zindon”. In addition, this magazine has separate sections, such as advice for cooks, various Chinese words, puzzles, children’s sports and health, hair care according to hygiene rules, and advice for hairdressing. Each issue also contains a table of contents.

 ZULFIYA as editor

 Radio editors: Z. Jamolova, Kh. Komilova, H. Muhiddinova, N. Mirpol’atova, Y. Nasriddinova, Kh. Sulaymanova, S. Khalifayeva, S. Shamsiyeva (deputy editor). 

The technical editor was Z. Rahimov.

 Address of the editorial office: Tashkent, Navoi street, house number 30. 

 Currently, Usmanova Munavvarkhan Abduhakimovna works as the editor-in-chief of the monthly socio-political magazine “Saodat” of the Women’s Committee of Uzbekistan. The current address of the publisher is: Navoi street 30, Shaykhontokhur district, Uzbekistan, 100011.

E-mail: saodat-gul@mail.ru.

Organization website: saodat-gul.uz

Essay from Farangiz Abduvohidova

Central Asian woman with long dark hair poses in front of a desk and receives an award presented to her by a man in a suit and tie. She's in a black and white coat and white collared shirt.

2nd stage student of Samarkand state university named after Sharof Rashidov Interesting facts you don’t know about Azim Bukhara. 

        The word Bukhara is a combination of the words “Bukh” and “oro” and means “Beauty of God”. Bukhara region is one of the Islamic cities. Because scholars and scholars who raised Islam to higher levels were born here. Imam al-Bukhari is one of such people, he collects the hadiths from the time of our Prophet until his own time in the book “Sahih Bukhari” divided into sahih-“reliable” and inauthentic-“unreliable”. His mind was very sharp, and some narrations have been given about it. His contemporaries say that not even 1 dirham, earned without hard work, entered his house.  

        In addition, the doctor Abu Ali Ibn Sina, who served as the foundation for the development of medical science, was born in Afshana village of Bukhara. His works were taught as textbooks in Europe until the 17th century. He wrote about 20 books devoted to the science of medicine. One of them is the 5-volume “Laws of Medicine” book.

    Bukhara is the birthplace of seven great Sufis of the Naqshbandi order. The great representatives of Sufism lived here, engaged in religious and social activities, and contributed to the birth and prosperity of blessed Bukhara, spiritual education and raising the emotional spirit. Here, the burial places of the holy Sufis – pyres and Islamic shrines – have been preserved. This ring starts with Khwaja Abdulkhaliq Gijduvani, Khwaja Arif Revgari, Khwaja Mahmud Anjirfag’navi, Khwaja Ali Romitani, Khwaja Muhammad Baba Samosi, Khwaja Sayyid Amir Kulol with Khwaja Bahauddin Naqshband. ends. We can see foreign tourists as well as local visitors to visit the seven piers. Sayyid Vasliy Samarkandi’s work “Nazm al-silsila” written in Tajik language in 1913 contains information about seven pir silsila. 

Pier 1 is located in my district. There are 2 things that made this district famous. One of them is the mausoleums of Abdukholiq Gijduvani, and the second is the official patent of Gijduvan shashliks.

     Now, if we talk about gijduvan shashliks, gijduvan shashliks are very tasty. They also have several types. Tandoori shashlik is especially popular. Our country is rich in beauties. I hope we can gain new knowledge through this information.

Poetry from Sobirjonova Rayhona

Central Asian teen girl with dark hair, brown eyes, small earrings, and a black coat and white collared shirt.

Mother

She was carrying nine months in her belly,

She gave birth to the world full of joy,

She spared everything for you,

If you cry, he will cry if you laugh.

God has given me a child,

Okay, I’ll eat it if I don’t want to eat.

Such a loving fate ended,

Okay, I’ll wear it instead of wearing it.

She thinks of you day and night,

She praised and prayed,

Why did you not reach the value of the name

The earth knows itself as the sky.

Taught to speak, write and draw,

Her hair turned gray and he looked at you,

Did you get enough of it once?

Even if the tests come, he holds your hand.

Mushtipar, your father gave his life,

Day and night, he did not stop saying that he was a child

The thorn bush picked your flowers for you,

The world is alive with his love.

Is it easy for you to raise a child?

Not one, but four lovers,

If it’s easy, you tell me

Grow up so many children.

I have nothing else to say to you child

One more day you will be a mother.

Even if your child hits you too

That’s how you know how much you value your loved one.

Then it’s getting late, open your eyes

Do your service and receive his blessing.

Do good, avoid evil

Take advantage of it while it’s still alive.

Every day you take four loaves of bread,

Always ask what your health is saying

Don’t cry waiting for you again,

God bless you, may you live long.

I am Sobirjonova Rayhona, a 9th-grade student of the 8th general secondary school of Vobkent district, Bukhara region. I was born in December 2008 in the village of Chorikalon, Vobkent district in an intellectual family. My mother and father supported me from a young age. I am also interested. I started writing in my 3rd grade. My first creative poem was published in “Wobkent Life” newspaper.

In addition, many magazines were published in America’s Synchaos newspaper, India’s Namaste India magazine, Gulkhan magazine, Germany’s RavenCage magazine and many other magazines and newspapers. my creative works have come out. I actively participated in many contests and won high places and received many gifts. Creativity is my precocity. I am very interested in creativity and enjoy every line. Of course, I will become a great person and bring the name of my country Uzbekistan to heaven, God willing!!!

Poetry from Kass

Wildflower

the strums of a guitar have many meanings,

bitter ones that leave scars on your perception

yet still important reminders.

a reminder that things will always fall apart,

that time will break the heart

and that you both will let go.

if july never came,

our embrace would be endless

now those ideas are behind me

as i have tried to forget.

why should we have to be reminded?

i know that you love me

i know i love you.

the strings turn from whispers to cries

their cries.

in the back of my thoughts

bound by the delicate chains of love

fearing caution

like the flower who wilts in the wild

was it my fault?

do my actions prevent us

from boarding the train to a future with each other?

would you take it back?

our lives

a blur of haste 

moments vanished in an instant

you weren’t as different as i

with joy

and unchained

the blood you wrote,

forever stained on my clothes

for everyone to see

a reflection of my unforgiveness

the thought of them

i can not seek to find new love

every touch from my attempts feels

as if it was hers.

you never meant for this

so I never told anyone.

 Was it my fault?