Tulip

My tulip’s heart is filled with blood,

Its world is shattered, ruined.

Those cowards it once believed in,

Strangers who spoke only lies.

My gentle one, my delicate soul,

Forget the burdens of this world.

Among these cowards,

Do not bow your head—stand proud.

Many are drunk on the wine

Of this fleeting world.

But for the pain called love,

There is no one who has not been defeated.

Xo’jamurodova Nigina 

Uzbekistan