In the realm where dreams reside....
In the realm where dreams reside,
Lies a tale that must be untied.
A story of forgotten lands,
Of whispered secrets in shifting sands.
Behold! A world so full of wonder,
Where stars ignite and heavens thunder.
Where moonbeams dance upon the streams,
And sunsets paint ethereal gleams.
In this realm, love blossoms true,
Where hearts entwine like morning dew.
A symphony of laughter fills the air,
As souls connect beyond compare.
But amidst this beauty, darkness creeps,
It slumbers there, silently it seeps.
A shadow cast upon the light,
Threatening to devour all in sight.
Yet hope ignites within each soul,
Burning bright, making them whole.
They rise against the tempest's might,
With courage fierce, they take to flight.
For in this realm, strength is found,
In unity, their spirits bound.
Together they face the looming storm,
Defying fate's relentless norm.
Through valleys deep and mountains tall,
They march with purpose, standing tall.
Their voices rise in unison,
A symphony of resilience begun.
And as they fight against the night,
Their spirits glow with radiant light.
For even when darkness seems so vast,
Hope endures and shadows won't last.
So let us join this sacred place,
Embrace its beauty and embrace its grace.
For within its depths lies life's sweet song,
An eternal melody that keeps us strong.
Poetess: Makhfiratkhon Abdurakhmonova from Uzbekistan.
The status quo sews faulty seeds but the tramps and vagabond hearts are the beauty of wild reeds. – Sebastian Malcolm Francis, Trail Walker by the Feral Ferns
Prologue
‘You can’t say it that way, and have to stop saying it. It’s grammatically incorrect.’ But I said the truth, which was, ‘I won’t stop, and lots of people talk that way. Real people.’ And it was left at that. The rains rained and the month that usually held snow on the ground, snow that had travelled through the winter sky, had little or none. Everything about the world was strange and much was troublesome…wars, disasters, inflation, and myriad other items besides.
Tires
The man was upbeat and liked his work, his movements fast and confident, his gait sure and steady and somehow wholesome. He had working hands and a good physical and spiritual heart. How many people had he helped by the sides of roads, and often in inclement weather? Is someone like that not like an angel? Truck and tire, jack and machine, work clothes and the world rains and rains. Electric light splashes upon one million puddles. The man moves in the world and the words he uses are direct and meaningful, for there is nothing superfluous about him. Good aura. Good people. He is good people.
Coffee
The lady has to walk through all kinds of weather to serve coffee at the edge of town. And how to navigate such a world in storms and cold? Heavy coat at least. She is calm. An adult but wise somehow like an old lady that has seen much. Her hands handle the counter surely and swiftly and perhaps she knows people better than a psychologist so-called. Outside the rains are tears across windows and the unthinking ones leave their garbage, because they think the world is only for them. It doesn’t make her jaded though. Everything is taken in stride. That portrays maturity and a type of self-actualization. Everyone is treated equally though she must have her favourites and not-so favourites even amoung the regulars.
Dancer
It’s not complicated. That one left the ambitious world and danced literally on shores. The waves lap, ancient oceans blue green turquoise and sometimes calm, other times tumultuous. To be in the body and feel a true and honest and inspiring rhythm is her goal. Rocks and sands, the clouds and sometimes birds, watch on. Integrity and hard work, and the years pay off in a particular sense. It is and isn’t second nature. Like many or all arts. She has gifts and can hear some inner music but has to honour the calling. And does.
Furniture
They asked him to leave college because he wasn’t academically like the others. All he wanted to do was learn to help bigger groups of marginalized people, but the world demands more. ‘Right now,’ he said, ‘I live in this neighborhood and people know if they need help with anything, like moving say, that they can ask me.’ He fell out of his seat once and it was because he was tired,- but people laughed at him. I tried to be his friend but lost touch in time. I wonder whatever happened to him. The world in those parts was cold and though every building could not have been grey, every building felt grey. What a world they have built, I thought to myself as I saw it all, so empty of warmth, so devoid of joy and naturalness.
Canine
That dog was rescued from a far away place, another country, and had a missing leg, its front left leg to be exact. But what heart it had, and one could tell that it had adjusted to its new life. Its owners took it on great walks and sometimes it met and played with other dogs. There, the world was not complicated. Trees. Skies. Good dirt trails. The wild birds went over the tops of the tree-lines. There was a different, a sanguine energy that stayed even in overcast weather. That energy was amidst the stones and ferns of the valley, the deep wild red sumac of the upper paths that waited always, in and about the little streams and also with the evergreens proud and reliable, plus the birch trees, always full of character and nuance, full of spirit and soul.
Epilogue
The rains stayed for days and even souls not prone to reflection sometimes gave pause and looked out windows. The news of the world was not good, yet there were still good people. Industrial grates received the water from the streets. Past the towns, beyond the old solitary church with its weathered and worn bricks, was a little cemetery surrounded by trees. The stones were faded and sometimes the names could hardly be read. One day those people were also alive and thriving, perhaps smiling and planning their day. But now, time had taken much. There was one marker that spoke of a man. I had bet, with that area being so rural, that he was a farmer of some sort. The cars and trucks out there on the roads beyond went and went and went,- tending to the business of the busy world alive. I think the farmer man must have been a salt of the earth type. I bet he was good people.
Experience
Sometimes I want to touch the clouds
They are white, soft and cute
I feel sleepy looking at the sky
A soft cloud caresses me
I take the pen slowly and slowly
I'm deep in innocent thought
What a paste when inspiration comes
I collect my thoughts on paper
Sometimes I use that pen too
I also like white paper
I wish I didn't have both
I don't know what's going on
Maybe my poems are not good
I can't give orders, it's my heart
At least today there is no inspiration
Desires are a language that cannot be expressed
Why am I so sad?
We live in the life after all
I also wrote a poem like a poet
Being a poet is also difficult
Madinabonu Bobobekova was born on February 2, 2009 in the Gallaorol district of the Jizzakh region.
Her works have been published in several district, regional and republican newspapers. In addition, she is active in foreign newspapers and magazines with creative works and a member of the "Qaqnus" group of the "Barkamol Avlod" boyar school.
My future
White and spotless as the clouds,
I have my dreams.
Fortune is always with me,
All my dreams will surely come true.
The passion deep inside me,
Never will fade away.
The faith of my country's leader,
Will always be a beacon in my way.
Bahara Shodmonkulova daughter of Ilhom, was born on June 23, 2010 in Gallaorol district of Jizzakhj region. Currently, she is a 7th grade student of the 42nd school.
Divine
I surpassed a gloomy vessel
Half emptied with brimming madness
It poured down over my triumphed choir
I summoned the angels from heaven
Of uttering divine prophecy
In the utmost time
Fall before illusion
Time's coveted monument
It surpassed a breathed life
All enchanting under the divine choir
The spasmodic rhythm
Of Earth awakened madness
It passed a heavy fall
Before I lie awakened with omniscient rhythm
I knew the divine speaks to all.
Methods of forming new words in Uzbek and English languages.
Moydinova Mavludakhon
Student of Kokand State Pedagogical Institute
Abstract: This article analyzes the ways of word formation in English and Uzbek and explains it through several examples. We know that every language has its own rules of word formation in its grammar. Therefore, the ways of forming words in Uzbek and English differ from each other.
Key words: English language, Uzbek language, word formation, affixation, composition, affix, prefix, postfix, infix
Each language has its own way of development based on word formation. After all, in order for a new word to be formed, that country must develop. Emergence of language Word formation is a separate category in grammar and is studied as a separate topic in linguistics. The emergence and development of language is definitely dependent on word-forming affixes. New words are formed with the help of word generators in the language, and the vocabulary of the language expands. The creation of new words using the existing words in the language and word generators is understood as word formation.In Uzbek, two methods of word formation are shown: affixation and composition. We know that words that do not have formative suffixes are called root words. method is called affixation method. For example, words expressing new meaning are created by adding a formative suffix to the words "cotton" and "stone". Word formation using affixes is a basic tool for many languages. In particular, the types of affixes in English and Uzbek languages are formed in almost the same way. Affixes are divided into prefixes, postfixes and infixes based on their addition to the base of the word. As the name implies, a prefix comes before the root, a postfix comes after the root, and an infix is added between two independent words to form a new word.
For example, in words such as beor, noshkur, nomard, a prefix is added to the words or, shukur, mard to form another independent word group, that is, adjective. In English, new words are created by adding prefixes such as "rewrite" and "rebuild" to the words "write" and "build". If a new word is formed as a result of adding a suffix, we can take as an example words such as speaker, freedom, beautiful in English. Infixed suffixes are less likely to be found in English, as they belong mainly to Arabic Arabic languages. However, since many words in the Uzbek language come from the Arabic language, they can be found in literary booksThe method of composition is characteristic of English and Uzbek languages, and this method is a method of creating a word with lexical meaning, which is formed by joining two or more independent words. In the method of composition, words are found by writing together, but also in the form of a line. For example, hardworking, mushroom (added), one hundred and twenty-five, dream (arranged). It is made in English just like Uzbek. For example, grandparents, firefighter (added), up-to-date (underlined), ice cream (lined up). In English, such words are called "compound words".
In conclusion, we can say that creating a new word in any way and by any means is called word formation. In any language, the formation of words and the ability to use them correctly is very important for us.
References Iriskulov M., "Introduction to Linguistics" Tashkent.: 2019. (pp. 119-120)
Rahmatullayev Sh. Modern Uzbek literary language. Textbook. -Tashkent, University, 2006.
A. Abduazizov. "Introduction to Linguistic Theory" (p. 97)
The girl was waiting for a taxi at the station – in a hurry and impatiently. At that moment, a small, slightly old car stopped. The girl ignored it and asked:
– Will you move to the bright future, the city of love?
– Yes, I will pass only through the path of knowledge, sister.
– No, thank you, this road is rough, I will a have trouble.
The car left. Another small old car came after him. Disgusted, the girl turned her face away and asked:
– Will you move to the bright future, the city of love?
– Yes, I will pass, my sister, I will take you through the vocational path.
– No, no, no! Thank you, there are many difficulties in the career path, because the road is bumpy.
He waited for a long time. At that moment, a car was seen in the distance. It was a large, beautifully decorated, tall, luxurious car. The car stopped in front of the girl. Girl:
– Will you move to the bright future, the city of love? – she said, shaking her hair beautifully. Then the young man laughed and said:
“Sit down, we’ll go right there on the way of peace and happiness.” The girl shyly looked at the ground, then got into the car.
They would go down the hilly road and have a sweet conversation. the girl was very happy: “Now I will walk on a straight path and easily find my happiness.” Suddenly, the straight road in front of them turned into a crooked, bumpy, potholed, uneven road, there were more and more large stones, and the car could not move. No matter how hard they tried, they could not advance any further. Then the guy took the girl out of the car and said:
– Now we can’t go this way easily. It is late. There is only one destination waiting for us – this is the destination of travel. Now let’s go for a walk. If we endure hardships, we will surely reach the destination of happiness. otherwise, there is no going back… and moving forward is difficult.. Let us go …
: Nurmamatova Oygul
Student of the 8th “B” grade of the creative school named after Ogahi
I was born Nurmamatova Aigul in Khanka district of Khorezm region. At first, I studied at general secondary school No. 38 in this district. my desire to write poems appeared in the 5th grade, at that time my poems were published in the newspaper “Khonka Yelyti” and in the magazine “Maktab Gunchali” and in 2022
My poetry collection “Armughan” was published. After completing the 6th grade, I was accepted to the creative school named after Ogahi in Khiva district with good marks. I started participating in the “Nasr” club there. at that time, my stories and drabbles were published in many magazines, including “Gulgunchalar” magazine and “Ezgulik” newspaper. 2023 My short story collection “Book of Life” was published. Thank God, I am taking both directions together! I am currently the winner of several competitions and a student of the 8th “B” grade of the creative school named after Ogahi. I create under the pseudonym Oygul Sanat
: Nurmamatova Oygul