First of all, published poet and contributor Tao Yucheng is still hosting a poetry contest, open to all readers of Synchronized Chaos Magazine.

Synchronized Chaos Poetry Contest: We seek short, powerful, imaginative, and strange poetry. While we welcome all forms of free verse and subject matter, we prefer concise work that makes an impact.

Guidelines: Submit up to five poems per person to taoyucheng921129@proton.me. Each poem should not exceed one page (ideally half a page or less). All styles and themes welcome. Deadline for submissions will be in early March.

Prizes: First Place: $50 Second Place: $10, payable via online transfer. One Honorable Mention. Selected finalists will be published in Synchronized Chaos Magazine.

Next, poet Yucheng Tao’s new chapbook, The Mirror Image of Death, has just been released from Alien Buddha Press! People can order it here.

J.J. Campbell’s new book To Live Your Dreams is also out and available to order here.

Welcome to this month’s issue, Paying Attention.

Across poetry, fiction, essays, memoir, and scholarship, this issue asks what it means to live attentively: to create honestly, remember faithfully, love fully, and choose responsibility in an impermanent world.

Jacques Fleury honors the many contributions of Black Americans to society and argues that the United States still needs to celebrate Black History Month due to their lack of knowledge of essential history and context.

Sayani Mukherjee presents spring as both gentle and haunting, reminding us that loss and regrowth are both intimate parts of our experience. Berdirahmonova Shahlo Sherzod qizi expresses poignant longing for the return of joy and love in the spring. O’giloy Kucharova celebrates the social and natural renewal of spring as Christina Chin’s haikus evoke winter’s precarity and solitude. Brian Barbeito’s work dissolves boundaries and outlines in the dark of night and the way the rain falls everywhere, inspiring an open, receptive state of mind. His next piece evokes a chilly and aesthetically under-defined winter day.

Ma Yongbo’s wintry and tough-minded poetic cycle poses the question of what it means to keep creating when permanence and perfection may be impossible. Lan Xin’s pieces honor restraint, the diversity of life, and working with the natural rhythm of life’s seasons. Mykyta Ryzhykh calls attention to how both death and rebirth in nature bring us out of our ponderings and back to the present moment. Sterling Warner draws upon fresh and salt water and psychological and physical weather Linette Rabsatt’s poems take joy in letting go of the conscious mind and listening to the natural world as a source of inspiration. Joseph Ogbonna meditates on the stillness and inspiration of an early dawn. Gezim Basha, in work translated by Marjeta Rrapaj, celebrates tender love and living an authentic life. Yo’ldosheva Zinnura writes of the need to care for and consider our impact on the environment and climate.

Mehreen Ahmed’s work explores art, creativity, complicity, and displacement. Alan Catlin’s ekphrastic poetry crafts scenes of still life interrupted by violence and chaos. Bill Tope’s short story critiques immigration enforcement violence in the United States through the terror of one wrongly targeted victim. Kelly Moyer’s absurdist, provocative video speaks to the same topic as Leticia Garcia Bradford offers a local perspective and Pat Doyne brings strident satire to the issues of the day. Umid Najjari offers a poetic tribute to those who lost their lives in the Iranian revolution. Sungrue Han’s poems evoke alienation, dislocation, and collective and individual trauma. Mahbub Alam decries human greed and the destruction of other humans and the natural world and encourages care and respect. Virginia Aronson draws attention to modern crimes committed by government agents and by international criminal gangs, suggesting a comparison.

J.J. Campbell brings his signature blend of hard-earned cynicism and exhaustion. Scott C. Holstad snatches bits of sweetness and color from complex and artificial modern life. Türkan Ergör reminds us of our mortality and vulnerability to various human struggles. Like a wanderer tiptoeing through dimly lit rooms in a house, Carl Scharwath’s poetry moves from loss to relief to conscious acceptance of stillness. Allison Grayhurst’s poetic cycle sheds, releases, and re-forms visceral emotions. Dr. Prasanna Kumar Dalai’s work carries the quiet dignity of someone who feels deeply but speaks carefully.

Mesfakus Salahin’s work addresses the alchemical transformation of formless feeling into legible thought through poetry. Shakespeare Okuni’s poem highlights the role of ritual and performance in meaning-making. Alex Johnson sets out a manifesto for artistic openness and an aesthetic that welcomes diverse sources of inspiration. Stephen Jarrell Williams evokes life, innocence, joy, and energy in his restrained pieces. Rus Khomutoff’s piece is at once overabundant, technical, and tender, perhaps more intended to be entered into than understood.

Abbas Yusuf Alhassan’s ars poetica explores the various forms poetry takes in his mind and how inspiration hits him as an artist. Duane Vorhees probes desire, time, chance, and memory. Nurbek Norchayev meditates on nature, time, and the life of the soul. Michael Robinson’s essay is a lived testimony of fear, darkness, illness, strength, forgiveness, and survival. Maja Milojkovic speaks of her personal spirituality and closeness to God. Sarah Adeyemo also reaches for her faith for comfort and the strength to keep loving even through a time of desperation and grief. Patrick Sweeney’s one or two-line thoughts provoke head-scratching and evade easy answers. Texas Fontanella jumbles a variety of words and symbols into a static buzz. Grzegorz Wroblewski’s asemic pieces reflect a mind in motion, jumping and self-editing mid-thought from one idea to another.

Susie Gharib navigates the emotional landscape of power, voice, myth, and lived reality. Mark Young contributes a fresh set of altered technicolor Australian landscapes. Cristina Deptula observes and comments on Dianne Reeves Angel’s memoir of a creative life in film production, Every Restaurant Tells a Story. Federico Wardal celebrates the film legacy of Italian filmmaker Billy Wilder. Taylor Dibbert enjoys traveling despite occasional moments of personal embarrassment. Xo’jyozova Dildora looks to ecotourism as a way to sustainably strengthen local economies.

For travel in a more metaphorical sense, Abdugafforova Muslimaxon Akmalovna reviews Qobilon Shermatov’s fantastical children’s tale The Country Inside My Grandfather’s Stomach. This book addresses issues of personal character, as each person’s “interior” reflects who they are and how they behave.

Other authors look at individual and collective character and moral choice. Eva Petropoulou Lianou’s poems express her hopes for peace, understanding, compassion, and humanity. Gordana Saric echoes that hope, wishing for worldwide love, understanding, and reconciliation. Maftuna Sultonova reminds us of the infinite value and dignity of each person. Nigora Baxtiyorova analyzes infidelity as a theme in Uzbek literature. Xasanova Aziza Kumushbek qizi peers into even more Uzbek literature and finds a timeless warning about how one’s life and dignity matter even more than one’s reputation and fame. Journalist Elisa Mascia interviews Azerbaijani author Jakhongir Nomozov and he affirms the need for authors to master their craft and speak their truth regardless of passing fads or popularity. Solid work will stand the test of time.

Dr. Jernail S. Anand suggests that a complete education not only teaches technical skills but also how to be a decent human being. Kodirova Shakhzoda highlights the cultural importance of Uzbekistan’s cultural values of compassion, courtesy, respect for nature, and courage.

Dr. Barbaros İrdelmen mourns love lost to human and societal pettiness, and to death. Bill Tope and Doug Hawley co-present a tale of loss, guilt, and redemption. Mehrinoz Tursunova’s bittersweet love poem prepares for an impending separation. Eshmatova Marjona Kamol qizi outlines ways social service systems can intervene to support children from dysfunctional families. Nurboboyeva Dilshoda Nodir qizi evaluates the psychological effects of divorce on children and suggests ways to help them through the transition.

Dildoraxon Turg’unboyeva reflects on childhood memories and her love for her departed grandfather. Gulsevar Mirzamahmudova honors her hardworking migrant laborer father for his care and determination, reflecting on how she misses him.

Malohat Ahmadjonova expresses love and gratitude for the hard work and dedication of her parents, who made sure she dressed well and received an education. Mashrabxo’jayeva Feruzakhon offers gratitude for the steady love and care of her parents. Nurullayeva Nigora Nurmurod qizi’s poem expresses her love and care for her mother, who has given her so much. Ismoilova Sarvinoz reflects on how much her parents have loved her over time and how she wishes to return the favor as they age. Shafkat Aziz Hajam fondly remembers the freedom and wonder of childhood, made possible by his caring parents.

Islamova Dilnoza Khamidovna gives thanks for a caring and steady friend as Rukhshona Khamzayeva shares her gratitude for a dedicated teacher. Zarifaxon Holiboyeva reflects on missing her family and her classmates in a young student’s piece full of tender affection. Toshpulatova Mehribonu Sherbek qizi rejoices in the love of her sweet sister. Alisherova Hurmatoy reflects on the power of her lover’s kind words to calm her spirit. Graciela Noemi Villaverde draws on elegant nature-inspired imagery to express her love. Chinese academic Bai Gengsheng pays tribute to his loyal and hardworking wife, acknowledging that her steady support over many years made his accomplishments possible.

Aziza Xasanova compares waiting for the unfolding of love to allowing a fig tree to leaf out in its season. Lan Xin’s epic, mytho-romantic piece affirms the choice of embodied and temporal love over transcendence and divinity.

Ozodbek Narzullayev’s verse expresses adoration for his country as if it were his lover. Jahongirova Gulhayo Jahongirovna’s rhyming poem pays tribute to a man of deep loyalty, patriotism and integrity. Abduganiyev Shexrozbek discusses the inter-related nature of the Uzbek national concept, legal system, and spiritual values in shaping the culture.

Kudratova Nozima Bahromovna explores the narrative style of Uzbek writer To’gay Murod. Madina Jorayeva’s essay highlights the contributions of translator and critic Ozod Sharafiddinov to Uzbek and world heritage and literature. Shahnoza Ochildiyeva translates Ozod Sharafiddinov’s essay celebrating and analyzing the literary value of poet and translator Abdulhamid Sulaymon og‘li Cho‘lpon’s contributions to Uzbek literature. Nargiza Masharipova celebrates the cultural interchanges made possible by the migration of the world’s peoples. Sultonaliyeva Go’zaloy outlines some of the factors encouraging and driving migration. Ubaydullayeva Saodat celebrates the literary artistry and truth-telling of one of Uzbekistan’s greatest poets, Alexander Feinberg. Xayrullayeva Zahro suggests ways to preserve the high literary quality of the Uzbek language and not lose it to abbreviations and modernisms. Rizoqulova Parvina Ramzovna analyzes the relation between language and culture.

Munavvar Tlewbaeva speaks of the comfort she finds by reading books by authors who understand and write of her feelings. Odinaxon Qodirova highlights ways to encourage young people to read. Yusupboyeva Madina rejoices in the persistence of reading culture among young people. Turgunova Kh. suggests strategies for teachers to effectively communicate with young Generation Z students.

Karimova Navbaxar Mahmudjanovna suggests strategies for encouraging creative thinking in children. Jorabek Muhammadolimov raises awareness of how too much scrolling and flipping online can lead to difficulty concentrating. Choriyeva Oynur warns of the consequences of overuse of smartphones and the Internet. Roziboyeva Asilakhon speaks against digital surveillance and fear-driven self-censorship.

Isroilova Sarvinoz Maxmud qizi discusses how to use educational tools to teach young children mathematical concepts. Barnoxon Baxtiyorjon Yoqubova considers strategies for integrating physical play with learning arithmetic. Amirqulova Gulsevar discusses digital innovations in education. Daminova Sevinch Tuychi qizi highlights the enlightened wisdom and teaching of Uzbek children’s educator Abdulla Avloni. Lazokat Ortigaliyevna Pirmatova relates how participating in competitive mental arithmetic helped her to develop confidence and the ability to think on her feet.

Nilufar Ibroximova suggests how new Uzbek textbooks could be crafted and used to help young children develop critical thinking. Norquolova Madina highlights the value of learning a second language. Haydarova Mehribon outlines various methods for learning the Mandarin Chinese language, coupled with history and background of the tongue. Mansurova Shahnoza parses the finer points of verb conjugation in French as Xurramova Farangiz compares the process in French and Uzbek. Masharipova Sayyora compares proverbs in French and Uzbek and how they reveal cultural values. Nilufar Mo’ydinova outlines techniques for learning German through approaches from the field of translation. Najmiddinova Mekhrigul Najmiddin qizi delves into the intricacies of language translation. Abdurahimova Anora’s essay considers the impact of one’s first language on the process of learning a second language. Mengboyeva Baxtiniso Mamatqobilovna highlights the value of language teachers’ maintaining a culture of competence in spoken language.

Several contributors work and research in the language of other academic and professional disciplines. Lutfullayeva Shaxrizoda Faruxjon qizi outlines the current state of pneumonia diagnosis and treatment in young children. Mansurov Abdulaziz Abdullox ugli highlights the importance of preventive dental care in children. Fahriddin Akramov’s essay describes treatment for a variety of neurological conditions. Mamatqulova Mukarram Nuriddin qizi speaks to the life and academic stresses students endure and how to protect their mental health. Nasulloyeva Feruzabonu Akmalovna discusses the nature of scientific innovation and how to encourage it in Central Asia. Durdona Sharifovna Roziboyeva discusses the effects of the Herbst dental appliance on the upper airway.

Eshmurodova Sevinch explicates methods of improving deposit mobilization policies in commercial banks. Iroda Sobirova outlines basic principles of supply and demand in a market economy. Sobirova Iroda Abdulaziz qizi highlights strategies to foster innovative entrepreneurship. Mamadaliyeva O’giloy asserts her power and determination to become successful in academics and business.

Baxshilloyeva Nigina Bahodir qizi offers inspiration to young women seeking to live their dreams. Axmetova Dilnura Po’lat qizi outlines the historical and contemporary role of women in Central Asian societies. Sevinch Farxodova highlights the importance of gender equality and initiatives to that extent in Uzbekistan.

Shahnoza Pulatova Makhmudjanovna outlines and describes how Uzbek society is modernizing politically, economically, and socially. Dilafruz Muhammadjonova expresses fervent pride in and hope for Uzbekistan and the desire for the nation’s youth to rise up and take their place. Priyanka Neogi outlines ways to overcome depression and apathy and keep working towards one’s goals. Ziyoda Murodilova highlights the importance of internal motivation and determination for students to achieve their goals. https://synchchaos.com/essay-from-orzigul-sherova-4/Orzigul Sherova presents, in a similar vein, her secrets to success through passion and hard work.

We hope that this issue inspires you to create your place in the world with intention and joy.

A new life of the season

That haunts the Mayflower gardens

I keep my vigil high

No one is nearer than death

Alaska rides and sky high buildings

The topmost is nearer to me

My garden is full of sweet marvel

As I gazed upon the peonies high

The merry go round of life is at my hand

To know that dream like state

Where pansies grew upon the hedgehog smile.

The Country Inside My Grandfather’s Stomach

One of the books I have read so far, and one that I enjoyed the most,
is The Country Inside My Grandfather’s Stomach, written by the beloved children’s author Qobiljon Shermatov.

The main characters of the story are Bahodir, Baxtiyor, Mahmud Bobo, Oftob Payvasta, Nursalom Hoji, Shabadaliyev Sharof, the ruler Sfan, Abdurahmon Bobo, Qalandar Toga, and others.

The story begins when Bahodir and his closest friend Baxtiyor return
home thirsty after playing football and accidentally drink a shrinking
potion created by Bahodir’s elder brother, Olim. As a result, they
become smaller than a flea and find themselves inside their
grandfather’s body—more precisely, in the country within their
grandfather’s stomach.

This country is extraordinarily pure, beautiful, and radiant. Anyone
who enters it cannot help but fall in love with it. Its people are
honest, faithful, intelligent, fair, and truthful, and everyone
strives to become a scholar. Instead of water, delicious juices flow
through the rivers. As people begin to read, they grow younger, and
light starts to shine from their homes.

Bahodir and Baxtiyor, who previously did not enjoy studying very much, witness many things in this land that do not exist in our world. They experience wonderful adventures and show great courage. For their bravery, they are awarded the “Golden Star” by the city governor, Oftob Payvasta. They come to love learning wholeheartedly, take a growth potion, return to the real world, and after many events, firmly decide to become scholars. They also wish to return once again to their grandfather’s country.

However, this time, by coincidence, they do not enter their
grandfather’s country but instead find themselves inside Shabadaliyev Sharof, a greedy accountant who fears no injustice and has made his desires the master of his heart. The country inside him is completely different from Mahmud Bobo’s land. There is no sun, the people are extremely selfish and miserly, and everyone thinks only of themselves.

This land is ruled by the greedy ruler Sfan, who represents human
desire and lust.

Determined to become scholars, the protagonists meet Nursalom Hoji and continue their journey of learning. They gain extensive experience, study diligently, and strive to lead the people out of ignorance toward goodness. During one research journey, Bahodir ends up in the land of the “People of Prayer.” Together with the faithful, radiant, and kind people of that land, they fight against the ruler Sfan and defeat him. After seven years, they finally return to their homes and achieve their goals and dreams.

Conclusion

What does this work offer today’s readers? This story encourages every reader—young or old—to think deeply. It teaches us to be pure-hearted like Mahmud Bobo and warns us never to allow “Ruler Sfan,” that is, our own selfish desires, to rule our hearts. The story reminds us to seek knowledge constantly, to stand among good people, and to do good deeds.

Dear reader, as the saying goes, “Seeing once is better than hearing a thousand times.” Therefore, read this book, understand it deeply, and draw your own valuable conclusions. And never grow tired of seeking knowledge.

BEKHBUDIY: CALL OF ONE HEART, ONE IDEA, ONE CENTURY

“Turon, what is your state, vying with the stars?

Thousands of separate heads—Freedom, why not come?

Find your own opportunity—Nation, why not rise?

Time will not wait. Will the heart not beat?

It is a companion to fear… Should I live like this?

Your death is nigh.”

(Najmiddin Ermatov)

     Uzbekistan, my radiant land, the home of the golden cradle generation where the sun sleeps in your veranda when you sing a “alla”, where white “to’n and “adras” robes suit well, adorned with silk belts; the land of Mahmudkhoja Bekhbudiy, Fitrat, and Chulpan; a bright nation where faith and Islam are perpetual companions! My dearest sun-filled land, an oasis where the architect of the Taj Mahal, the engineer of the Nile, and the Imam Bukhariys originated; where spring whispers in winter, and gold blossoms in the soil! My heavenly nation, a pearl of the East, that has captured the morning shimmer of the sun in its orbits, a stellar land that has made both the sun and the stars fall in love with it!

     My chest is full of pride that the great Turkistan enlighteners, who endured all hardships for the happiness and prosperity of this country and sacrificed their lives to lead the homeland from darkness to light, are my ancestors. The feeling and glorification of the homeland are inherent in the heart of every person who grew up on the soil of Mulki Turon. When talking about the brave sons ready to give their lives for their country, the difficult lives of our Venerable Jadids, who raised them in the spirit of the homeland, and simultaneously the dawn suns who opened the eyes of our nation, serve as an example for everyone.

     “If we, the Turanians, spend the money we use for weddings and funerals on the path of science and religion, we will soon progress like the Europeans, and both we and our religion will gain prestige and development. If we continue in our current state, we will have nothing but humiliation and misery in religion and the world.” The people were in a deep sleep of negligence. Yes, these were the words of Bekhbudiy spoken at a time when other intellectuals were bursting forth from within, like a volcano, with the cry of “freedom”… The more we study the history, life, and activities of these national luminaries, the more they remain alive, and the unfulfilled desires scratching a corner of our hearts are reincarnated. They are rivers that have overflowed their banks and flowed backwards, untamable stallions restless in chains, the frothing blood of the nation, the life of enlightenment that has reached the throat in the face of ignorance. The Jadids are the new echo of the questions sought from the essence of the homeland, the tears that flowed behind the eyes of Mother Turkestan, whose heart was filled with lamentation; they are the very identity of this country, the root veins of New Uzbekistan. They were lessons incarnate, brought into the world to explain the value of the gift called life, the honor and respect of a human being, and what it means to be worthy of one’s nation and homeland. The goal of these innovators, who did not fit into the despotic system and had their own new world and ideology, was the noble pursuit of opening the nation’s eyes, achieving the days of progress for the people of Turkestan, reaching the world through educated national cadres, and building a free civil society on the foundation of enlightenment and culture. Striving to reform and renew a backward country, its education system, Bekhbudiy despaired with the “needs of the nation” in his heart, saying, “This path leads to a bad end; we must learn and teach,” and never lost hope for our present day until his execution.

     Have you seen the softly rustling, burning candles in the dark night? They flicker faintly, continuously and orderly spreading light. This light has the power to illuminate the entire night. Mahmudkhoja Bekhbudiy was such a candle of light.

He selflessly sacrificed himself, like a shieldless victim, to return the sun to the dark, unattended heart of a slumbering nation. It was exactly Behbudiy who launched the wingless birds of the darkness of illiteracy into the sky of science, “drowned” the thirsty fish in the ocean of endless books, and acted as the rider for the unsaddled horses. Mahmudkhoja dreamed of seeing the Uzbek people on equal footing with developed nations, and he stood out among the mature Jadids of the period of intellectual awakening with his worldview and activities. In his view, the school alone was not enough for enlightenment. It was necessary to keep up with the times and world events, to be aware of the condition, and daily life, of the nation and homeland. Therefore, society needed a mirror in which it could see both its ugliness and its beauty. This need and necessity led Bekhbudiy to theater and the press.

     “Padarkush” came into existence during this period. The author called this work a “national tragedy,” and it tells the story of ignorance and folly, where an uneducated child falls into corrupt ways and kills his own parents. Despite its small size, the lesson to be learned from it is extremely important. The life path and scientific and social activities of this enlightener, who tried his best to light the candle of the future in people’s hearts, are an endless example for us, as are his works and instructive ideas.

     In particular, there is a lesson in Behbudiy’s attitude towards world phenomena. His discretion in distinguishing between friend and foe is immaculate. The evidence he provided to prove his views is strong. The weights of his balance scale are not hollow inside. That is why dozens of names of Eastern scholars and titles of works appear in the content of his articles. Since he knew Russian perfectly, he referred to Russian books and the ideas of Russian scientists. There is great pain, a great dream, and meaning embodied in the communication, awareness, and cry of His Holiness Bekhbudiy with world civilization, world scientists, and world-famous books. For instance, in his article “Islahi Tahsil” (Reform of Education), he wrote, “We should send students to Egypt to systematically study general religious and Arabic literature and learn the methods of education there.” In this regard, he freely expressed his recommendation.

     Bekhbudiy is the star that defines the nation’s new path! Bekhbudiy is the gazelle staring into the far distance, trying to save its herd from predators! Bekhbudiy is the rope that fell into the hands of executioners and is preventing the innocent from perishing! Bekhbudiy is the compassionate soul worried about the lifeless, impoverished people, astonished by the populace that has even forgotten religion! Bekhbudiy is the love whose heart is burning while looking at those smiling as they die! Bekhbudiy is the tightrope walker carefully passing the pearl of knowledge from one heart to another above those silently watching! What an honor that Mahmudkhoja was born like the sun, with such dedication fixed in his body and soul.

      Indeed, the Jadids were not ordinary people. They opened new method schools and created textbooks. They enriched our language with writing and linguistic units. They worked tirelessly, like swallows trying to awaken the sleep in people’s eyes. They went from village to village, knocking on doors saying, “We have brought knowledge, please accept it.” The pen was their sword, every letter put on paper served them like a soldier. They published newspapers and magazines, wanting to awaken the nation with only one thing—the truth. Prison chains, years of exile, and even the executioner’s sword could not stop them. All of them sacrificed their lives on the path of their sweet dreams.

Is there a greater, more magnificent deed than this for a nation? True, this enlightenment movement, which urged the future towards light and stirred Turkestan, encountered great obstacles, was erased from the pages of history, the national leaders were branded as “nationalists,” and the bright faces were blackened. However, neither chained legs nor bound hands could turn the Jadids, who have taken an eternal place in the consciousness of the young generation, away from the path of enlightenment. The secret of eternity lies precisely in this commitment and self-sacrifice. “Oh Turkistan, did you manage to preserve the second pearls emerging from the shells? Did you not accept with a torn and patched shroud those who honored you with poems that sang of your love in every line? Oh Turkistan, did you stand by silently when the riders galloping in the field of literature were whipped on the head? Did you not share sustenance from your fields and dastarkhans, becoming a ready meal for those who trampled your sacred soil? Oh Turkistan, did you ever throw the stones that muddled the water back at them? Even if evil deeds and the most sordid events occurred in your past, could you loudly proclaim the thousands of treasures of enlightenment, the priceless jewels of knowledge within your chest? Turkistan, every dream of yours has a unique secret, every night of yours is adorned with divine inspiration. Turkistan, we bow to every wind of yours, we cherish every flower of yours. We will shine as stars in your sky, we will pay our debts as children on your lands, we will be the generation that preserves your power!

     In conclusion, our ancestors, who dreamed of seeing their colonized homeland among the world’s developed countries by fighting against ignorance and defending the nation’s honor, have achieved their goals today. Now, we, the owners of today, have a strong duty not to forget that we must realize the centuries-old dreams of our ancestors, preserve the land where peace reigns, and make the youth understand whose descendants we are through our aspirations, participation in reforms, and initiatives. Indeed, the future of New Uzbekistan is a glorious responsibility entrusted to our shoulders. As Bekhbudiy emphasized: “Oh zealous youth! The time is yours. Unite with each other, build societies, and serve the nation’s cause.””

Dilafruz Muhammadjonova is a second-year student majoring in Uzbek Language and Literature at the Faculty of Philology of the National Pedagogical University of Uzbekistan named after Nizami.

Ode to Return

—The Four Seasons Walking Out of Ancient Dongba Scriptures

By Lan Xin (Lanxin Samei)

Internationally renowned Chinese writer and poet, the only female inheritor of Dongba culture, Dean of China Yulong Wenbi Dongba Culture Academy, Winner of the Premio Letterario Internazionale Francesco Giampietri

Dongba’s Winter
You walk out of the ancient Dongba scriptures
The nimble-flying Alangji bird
Perches on the treetop of a green tree
Shakes its body three times upward
Three pure white feathers float down
The white feathers turn into white snow
White snow is the messenger of winter
Skylarks usher in the north wind
Wagtails bring the dewdrops covering the ground
White cranes summon the snowflakes filling the sky
The diligent have shoes to wear
The lazy walk barefoot
This winter
Is not the time to migrate home
Shall we wait till the warm spring of the third lunar month?

Dongba’s Spring
You walk out of the ancient Dongba scriptures
The nimble-flying Alangji bird
Perches on the treetop of a green tree
Shakes its body three times downward
Three emerald green feathers float down
The green feathers turn into tender grass
Tender grass is the messenger of spring
Trees are clad in emerald gowns
Cuckoos sing on the branches
White muntjacs roar in the pine woods
Pheasants and hill pheasants chirp in the forest

Valiant men lack food grains
Virtuous women waste away
This spring
Is not the time to migrate home either
Shall we wait till the midsummer of the sixth lunar month?

Dongba’s Summer
You walk out of the ancient Dongba scriptures
The nimble-flying Alangji bird
Perches on the treetop of a green tree
Shakes its body three times to the left
Three jet-black feathers float down
The black feathers turn into heavy rain
Heavy rain is the messenger of summer
Slopes are covered with dense grass and woods
Even leopards and tigers with sharp claws
Cannot wander out of the deep mountains and thick forests
Beneath the tree roots down below
Rainwater merges into a river
Even otters and fish
Cannot swim across the rushing gully
This summer
Is still not the time to migrate home
Shall we wait till the golden autumn of the ninth lunar month?

Dongba’s Autumn
You walk out of the ancient Dongba scriptures
The nimble-flying Alangji bird
Perches on the treetop of a green tree
Shakes its body three times to the right
Three golden feathers float down
The golden feathers turn into yellow flowers
Flowers are the messenger of autumn
Yellow flowers, silver flowers and golden flowers
Turquoise flowers and jet-black gem flowers
Bloom everywhere across the land
This autumn
At long last
Is the time to migrate home
Chong Ren Li En, the ancestor of the Naxi (Nakhi) people

Takes his bride Chen Heng Baobai, whom he married in the heavenly realm
Back into the long-missed embrace of Mother Earth
Back to the home where humans dwell
One mother gives birth to three sons
And the three sons are all different from one another
From then on
Upon the land of humans
Three ancient ethnic groups come into being
They build a beautiful homeland together
And live in harmony and happiness

Time as Our Witness

Poem by Lan Xin (Lanxin Samei)

International Spiritual Poet, Internationally Renowned Chinese Writer and Poet, Winner of the Premio Letterario Internazionale Francesco Giampietri, the Only Female Inheritor of the World Memory Heritage Naxi Dongba Culture, Dean of the Yulong Wenbi Dongba Culture Academy of China and Lanxin Samei Academy

Dedicated to the Greek readers on Valentine’s Day, February 14, with this poem. May you and your loved ones be blessed with eternal happiness!

——Lan Xin

Three thousand years ago

You were the Lord of the Universe—the King of Kings

Known to gods and mortals alike, I was your cherished Queen

Then came the great catastrophe of the Three Realms

Tearing us apart abruptly, leaving us to grieve the love we lost

Since then, time has carried me

Across the Ten Directions and Dharmadhatus

Through six cycles of reincarnation

Reborn as a human, I walked the path of cultivation for nine lifetimes

Endured all the tribulations of the mortal world, just to meet you again

After three thousand years of wandering

I searched for you a thousand times among the crowds

And finally, today, three thousand years later

We reunite beneath the magnolia tree

Its dancing shadows whisper our ancient vows

In the moment our eyes meet

We see reflections of ourselves from three thousand years ago

And the endless search through lifetimes unfolds before us

Above the mortal world, you remain the supreme King of Kings;

Within the mortal world, you are also the finest man on earth.

Heaven and earth unite, with white cranes as their matchmakers

Sun and moon unite, with Venus as their matchmaker

Mountains and rivers unite, with gold as their matchmaker

Chestnut and pine trees unite, with bees as their matchmaker

Turquoise and black jade unite, with golden threads as their matchmaker

When you and I unite once more, who shall be our matchmaker?

Let three thousand years of time be our matchmaker

To witness our timeless love

For the rest of my life

I do not wish to return as the goddess of the Diamond Kingdom

I only wish to be the little woman in your arms

For the rest of my life

I do not wish to leave a legacy for a thousand years

I only wish to be with you, day and night

For the rest of my life

I do not wish to be a fairy in the clouds

I only wish to live fully as a mortal woman

For the rest of my life

I do not wish to be showered with thousands of affections

I only wish to nestle in the arms of you, the ultimate doting husband

For the rest of my life

I do not wish to return to the cosmic kingdom

I only wish to savor the love of this mortal world

Time as our witness

Heaven and earth as our testimony

May we be united for ten thousand years

And never part again

Still Life with Dead Zone

1-

Blackbirds at Dusk

Bare tree outlined against a brushed-of-light sky.  Blackbirds risen in flight.  Cold, 

shifting wind suggests a freezing rain, sleet changing to snow.  In the valley, the cleared

field is collecting birds.  Their gathering a strange collection of living matter among the

desiccated stumps of summer.  Long rows of them, newly sprouted like nightmares.

Moon rise with

white comet tails;

ghost light on an

empty outdoor stage

After the flight of birds, silence.  Nothing moving among the dead, leafless trees, sheared

to the stumps or broken into diseased humps, sprouting from the ground like the broken limbs of

dead soldiers planted as a warning for those who follows after. The muffled steps of what comes

after the night, their obscene bodies, their wings.

2-

Flyway

Pre-front clouds, a black fistula consuming a bent horizon.  Birds in migratory flight

flee the stilted hills, the nesting grounds.  Static electricity rubs the color from the sky.  An open

wound left behind.

Flat sky, sun torn

fabrics, black 

blood blisters.  Birds.

Incongruous tarmac at the edge of wild jungle growth baked hard by relentless sun.  Air

ground control station, elevated sniper/ guard towers overlooking the perimeter, concertina wire,

no man’s land.  Toward nightfall, a mad minute, tracer rounds instead of exotic birds flights;

incoming instead of by-air transport.

3-

Roadside Marker

Early morning still life with grazing cows.  Sun bursting off last finger of ground fog

drying the low, foraged grass.  Budding trees just beyond wending wall of rock separating fields

from drainage ditches and black topped road.  Clipped lily on white cross by bare black limbed,

skinned-of-bark tree.  A scatter of car parts. Windshield glass.

Confluence of shadow

and fog, no light

leaking through.

White stone marker embedded roadside indicates eighty-one kilometers to nowhere.

Lifting ground fog and battlefield smoke envelop cratered highway littered with discarded gear:

worn boots, torn rucksacks, unfolded blankets, ruptured canteens, tattered tents.  Along the road,

stunted trees, a long, thin barbed wire fence posted with warning signs, blackened fields of burnt

elephant grass.  Still life with dead zone.

4-

Flooded Road

Legacy of storm; a spontaneous inland sea.  Reflections of immersed objects in still

water: trees, tops of fence posts, vehicle roofs, antennae, tips as rigid as insects remains.  Clear,

cloudless sky cleansed of light.

Temporary bridges

between two shores,

water in the middle

washing them away.

Fording the river in full combat gear.  Foot soldiers holding their weapons diagonally

overhead, walking, waist high, then chest high, some totally submerged. Only the rifles, still

mostly dry, visible above the surging water.

5-

Fog and Woodsmoke

Evening haze with scent of cook stoves, fireplaces.  Houses trimmed with decorative

lights off-season; an almost unearthly glowing in near-night darkness.  Still life with cracked

blacktop and low hanging trees.  The pulsing of the overhead wires almost audible.  Nothing

moving but the smoke. The haze.  The strange rings of the overhead street lights.

Dead air with black

smoke; impossible

to breathe.

Smoke from the burning thatched huts.  The guts of cook fire spread on the hard packed

earth: embers, overturned black pot, utensils for stirring, nearby.  Last, spent remnants of 

location-marking flares amid the black, billowing smoke.  A naked baby, sitting amid the 

wreckage, screaming.

6-

Pavement Ends

Single lane of hard packed, graded rock between fenced fields.  Thick, intensifying

ground fog covering the land, obscuring the caution sign, masking the way.  Vision, at last light,

no more than a few feet forward.  Soon, the dark.

Maps without borders,

unmarked trails

have no end.

Bent-to-the-earth signs say: Extreme Caution: Minefield Do Not Enter.  A skull and

crossed bones penciled beneath the words.  Fields extending on either side of the road into the 

dark; the enclosing jungle trees beyond.  The way on either side cratered from overhead

bombing or from something explosive underneath.  Large pits with still water inside. Other

objects, as well.  Soon, the dark.