MY COUNTRY
He took the purple color from the blood of the martyrs and created chaman in the chest of this land.
Infatuated with your incomparable beauty, I love you as my admiration, Motherland.
Hokingta is a mixture of grandfathers' love, a song that is engraved in the hearts of mothers.
Your arms are as warm as my mother's arms,
I love you, my country.
You are the propeller that spins in Tegram,
May your child rest in peace. You caress my head, brave yourself,
I love you as my power, Motherland.
Your body is full of enthusiasm, and your eyes are always refreshed.
Excitement in my heart, wonder in my eyes,
I love you as my paradise, Motherland.
Nodira Jorayeva is a 3rd-year student of Bukhara Engineering-Technology Institute, Faculty of Technological Process Management Systems, Department of Information Systems and Technologies.
Born on March 15, 2002 in Jondor district of Bukhara region.
He graduated from the 29th general secondary school of Zhondor District, Bukhara Province.
During his school years, he stood out among his peers as an initiative, demanding and creative student. He graduated from school with excellent grades. "My contribution to the development of the country" in the district stage of the competition of creative works of the project "Great children of my motherland." Creative works published in periodicals. "first-class diploma in the nomination, organized by the Faculty of History and Cultural Heritage of Bukhara State University, announced on the official channel of the "Flight Mega Project" and held under the hashtag "Bag and Me" as the "Most In addition to actively participating in the "good video" nomination and getting a high score, he was awarded a second degree diploma by the head of the channel for showing examples of aspiration, at the youth festival held under the slogan "Why do I love Uzbekistan"? The third place in the "Storytelling" category. The first place in the Prose category "Best Story Author" category of the "Green Leaves" online competition held among creative young people, Bukhara Institute of Engineering and Technology "Bahor" came to question you" and won the third place in the poetry evening and many other competitions.
A very creative student who works in prose, poetry, journalism. He is the winner of Zhondor District, Bukhara Region and Republican contests. Party affiliation, National Revival Democratic Party.
He is the author of prose and verse books "DREAM STOP", "TEST OF FATE", "SPRING OF MY HEART". The author of many articles published in "Voice of Zhondor", "Bukhara evening", "Spiritual shock", "Bukhara youth", "Bekajon" newspapers. He was admitted to the Bukhara Institute of Engineering and Technology in 2021!
a fire that will not be extinguished until equality flourishes.
GRACIELA NOEMI VILLAVERDE is a writer and poet from Concepción del Uruguay (Entre Rios) Argentina, based in Buenos Aires She graduated in letters and is the author of seven books of poetry, awarded several times worldwide. She works as the World Manager of Educational and Social Projects of the Hispanic World Union of Writers and is the UHE World Honorary President of the same institution Activa de la Sade, Argentine Society of Writers. She is the Commissioner of Honor in the executive cabinet IN THE EDUCATIONAL AND SOCIAL RELATIONS DIVISION, of the UNACCC SOUTH AMERICA ARGENTINA CHAPTER.
No one will be able to love you the same way before
No one can die like you did
I give you castles in the air
I give you sand castles
I’m drowning in the rising tide
I’m drowning in time and death
Pain is a cloud shot in/from minutes
The sand covers the past and
I am drowning in the depths of the sands
***
Mom taught the soldier to read
Mom taught the soldier how to dress
The soldier did not teach his mother to cry
The soldier did not teach his mother to wait
You can’t be born mothers
You can die mothers
Corpses dig trenches for themselves
Corpses are dug out from trenches
***
The tree is dead
Nobody organized a funeral
No one came to say goodbye to the deceased
No one has made a coffin out of human skin
The tree was killed in an unequal battle with a chainsaw
The tree was killed by depriving the executioner of excess oxygen
Trees are so humble that they will endure anything
Trees are so proud that they even die in silence
***
Crystal air
Crystal man
Crystal leaves under crystal feet
Mines
***
1
snowflake cures snowflake
time does not stand still
and the snow molds jugs of touches
2
the bird drinks the morning silence
spring grass is washed with morning dew
the cemetery in the morning is unchanged
3
Inevitable night plays snowballs
another moment and the eyelids will drop
forever
***
аliens are looking
for the last flower
in the history of planet
***
the grass falls asleep
autumn rain drinks
the growing silence
***
the leaves under my feet
taught my bones to crunch
again
***
birds seek sound
and proud friendship
in feathered dandelions
***
nobody knows
who’s hiding under
the killing snow
***
Feet are washed with water and eyes are dried
The desert of the gaze envelops with heat
Look at me and tell me that no one will die
The glass fades and the mosaic breaks into pieces
Bread crumbs gradually become smaller
Birds quietly peck bread or eyes
The world stands still waiting for the future
A storm of inaction envelops the tree
The tree does not resist but dies
How many crosses can a tree give birth to?
How many crosses can a cleaver make?
The grains of time keep their own count
***
You are silent
I drink the silence
You are a bird
I am a torn feather
You give me joy
I’m not happy about anyone or anything
You kiss me with your lips of sunny pearls
I’m still dying slowly
***
Someone is counting the number of stars in the sky
Nobody knows how many suns died in a sore chest
We all smoke the air of freedom and we all die
But what will the homeless angels think of us?
***
the sky under my feet turned into puddles
a little boy with a strange name comes to me every night
he asks to copy an icon from him
and I can draw little things in my dreams
the painted sky under my feet dissolves with the sound of the alarm clock
***
the garage stinks of gasoline
the radio in the kitchen is annoying during dinner
and the younger brother shudders at the sight of the leather belt as before
even after our father’s death
***
ran away from math class
autumn started a lesson with origami
but
sorry I’m too lazy
sorry I’m too sad
for this lesson
silence flows through the veins of the air
the cuts on my hands are almost healed
the rope loop on the chandelier still hangs in my room
I still doubt that everything will go according to plan
I’ll probably skip English lesson tomorrow
I have important things to do in my room
***
lips crack without waiting for a kiss
the snow sculpting the touching
at the bus stop
*** bones entwined with flowers wash the coffin with their whiteness like its a dirty box with a surprise
*** a black cat falls from the roof into the night mouth of silence
*** sort through cards with the names of the dead do not sort through cards with the names of the dead the death assistant has a lot of busyness
*** white people with a clear (empty?) conscience enter my house black birds on the windowsill knock on the iron night of death white people beat fear out of their heads black birds sew up their eyes with despair
*** the rubber hunger of poverty blood flows like a spring glossy eye drinks sugar stream does not quench your thirst
*** Syncopation caught the top of the mountains, so air screamed and drowned in the river. Surprisingly, the fiery heart descended from the sky and also sank in the water. We have been living without the sun for a month. What else does the river water carry away in memory and wash away on the eve of the end of the world?
