Tuesday, December 1, 2015

MAKHFUZA IMAMOVA


Makhfuza Imamova


MY NAME IS…
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 others
Oh, 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 fallen hundred years back,
You are looking down.

I don’t want to reach you a blemish,
I don’t want to reach you a victim.
Listen,
My name is a beautiful patience
My name is a beautiful distress.

Makhfuza Imamova,
Uzbekistan.

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