My Mummy – A Poem from Uzbekistan

What is peace and rest in this world? I took your peace, but rest couldn’t give you

Sirojiddin Sayyid

Sirojiddin Sayyid was born in October 1958 in the village Kundajuvoz, Sariosiya district, Surkhandarya region of Uzbekistan. He graduated from Tashkent State University, Faculty of Journalism (1979). He is Deputy Chairman of the Writers’ Union of Uzbekistan. He worked Tashkent Evening newspaper, ‘Mushtum’ magazine and other organizations. His first collection of poems was ‘The Map of the Soul’ (1985). After that he wrote “In the palm of cool rocks” (1987), “The land of love” (1989), “Asragil”, “Love remains, love remains” (1990), “I burned” (1994), “Studying the homeland” (1996), “Vatan Abadiy” (2001), “Ustimizdan oygan aylar” (2003), “Swallows give your awnings” (200) and others. Along with the traditions of Uzbek classical poetry, Sirojiddin Sayyid’s poetry is dominated by features of folklore – populism, simplicity, sweetness of language, lexical and musical nuances of Surkhandarya dialect. That is why most of his poems have become songs. At the same time, Sirojiddin Sayyid has mastered the latest artistic achievements of Uzbek poetry in his work. He translated Voznesensky’s Eternal Food (1990) into Uzbek. He was awarded the Order of Friendship (1999). He lives in the city of Tashkent.

MY MUMMY

Mummy, with you I couldn’t stay,

On your eyes the dust I couldn’t wipe too,

What is peace and rest in this world?

I took your peace, but rest couldn’t give you

 Springs are watched by our entrance,

Changing the dry leaves to fragrance

When leaves tell wisdom scratching walls

With you I couldn’t stay to caress once.

Here winter designs white table-cloths,

What games will the fate show again?

The fire in the oven will warm you,

I couldn’t be as this fire to you.

When spring comes, brides will charm,

Toiling they carry water without harm.

When cradles swing with full of babies,

Worried you were, but I couldn’t balm.

Gone were the years, it stopped to rain

Don’t floods finish, run out and end.

The rains of your face have never ceased,

I couldn’t come up as a wind when needed.

The way to soul is labor from beginning to end,

In a straw lying on a road a magic I’ve seen a lot,

Falling in love with others I’ve been reproached,

Striking my head at stones break it I could not.

Life was said like a bird on a bush,

The love’s essence was said in vain.

The world was said yesterday’s dream,

This dream’s meaning I couldn’t explain.

Were you tired by sunset again, mummy?

Dry and weak like a fallen leave again?

Weren’t these sorrows enough, I came up

To share all my grieves not being ashamed!

 ____________________

Translated by Begoyim Kholbekova

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