By Makhfuza Imamova A way of life became a thin bridge,I couldn’t pass it without fail.I have raised only absence,But I never took your heart up. To come the fate’s bows,Aimed only me among othersOh, my dear, it has no tongue,Of my heart which believes you. You are asking my name again, again,As If I am dreaming at night.Say, why as a snow of hundred years back,You are looking down now. I don’t want to reach you a blemish,I don’t want to reach you a victim.Listen,If you want to know,My name is a beautiful patienceMy name is a beautiful distress.
Makhfuza Imamova was born in Oltinsoy district, Surkhandarya region, Uzbekistan. She is a student of Noble School of Business, Bangalore University. Her first book “Yorug’ yo’l” (‘The bright way”) published over 20 000 copies by Uzbekistan Writers Union. She worked for “Akademnashr” publishing house in Tashkent.
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