Poetry from Surayyo Usmonova

Photo of a young teen Central Asian girl with straight black hair up in a bun and brown eyes and lipstick. She's wearing a collared white shirt with a medal on her chest.
Surrayo Usmonova

An attractive bookshelf. A girl entered the room, holding a crimson flower in her hand. She was as elegant as the flower she held, and her face blushed at the same time. For some time, she was lost in sweet thoughts, and then she smelled the flower once more, took her favorite book from the shelf, and put the flower between its pages.

“Do you not think this place is too dark for a flower that grows under the generous sun, in the open blue sky?” she wondered. But the space was bright with boundless, pure light, and she knew it was the perfect spot for her beloved flower.

The book was amazing, and the girl was in awe of its beauty. “Wow! This flower is so beautiful and stunning,” she thought. “The fragrance emanating from it attracts all kinds of people.”

The book inadvertently talked to the flower: “You… You are exceptionally beautiful!”

“Hi there,” the flower replied. “I recognize you. When I was still in the garden, I heard a guy and a girl talking about you. They argued about you. They were so interested in you that I want to know more precisely what happened.”

The book, who was deeply in love with the flower, said that he would read the love story he had written.

Flower listened to the story every night with interest and pleasure. The story was about to end, but one day, the girl took the book from the shelf and went out to the garden to read it. Her eyes were filled with tears, and her heart was broken when she learned that the closest person she loved and respected had died.

As she read the book aloud, the tears that fell from her eyes blurred the writings on its pages. The book contained these verses:

“What are you, Love?!

Happiness or sadness?

These roads are broken, broken hearts.

In fact, the condition of love is this… Suffering.”

The girl could not stop crying and put the book on the ground. At that moment, a storm suddenly arose, and the wind blew the flower between the pages of the book far away.

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