My country, don't be fooled by your beauty
The steps are on the path of the lovulas,
My eyes rejoice in the reflection of your gaze
Your name Uzbek is on my face.
Sometimes, I think in the quiet night,
Maybe life is what you miss
On the day I lived with sweet longing,
Your glorious history written in verses.

Yes, I praise your beauty
Again, I applaud your honor
I can't get enough of praising that garden of yours
The Motherland, which I cherish in the depths of my heart.
Maybe I won't write poems about you
I don't write books like great poets,
Maybe my ink pens are weak
But, in my heart, you are always the Motherland.