Makhliyokhon Umirzakova

Makhliyokhon Umirzakova (Uzbekistan) : Selected Poems

The Odor of Happiness


Light leaks from the embrace of mountains,

Sensitive trees wake up.

Empty baskets

Roll down the arbor.


In the early morning, my mother builds fire in tandoor,

And she bakes kindness in tandoor.

She fills the embrace of baskets,

Every morning appreciates it.


She sprays water over the drowsy courtyard,

And she wakens lazy soil.

As if it kisses on its forehead,

The dawn begins wakening the village.


The golden braided Sun comes

On the fiery maned and swift-flying wing.

A sweet breath spreads out,

The odor of happiness comes from life.

My childhood


My childhood remained in childhood,

The wave of life took it to the strange coasts.

In Margilan a weeping willow waited for me as my grandma,

And its shoulders sank.


The smell of flower tulip remained on my nose,

The song of butterfly remained in my ear.

I handed to the sun snowdrops,

The top of my fingers was burned.


I want to throw my sorrow into the large canals,

I want to taste my mother’s halvah.

I want to sip water from the spring water of pureness

And return those moments.


Years, roads


My father says: “My pure daughter,”

His eyes fill with tears.

Do I remind my grandma?

Do I look like her myself, or my eyebrows?


 I was a child and I didn’t realize,

Why my father looked with longing

Why he liked me for my long dress, tassel,

And my simple-mindedness.


Years, roads, longing, and separation,

Are your eyes wet for happiness?

Dad, tell me the truth,

Do I remind my grandma?


Discussion of books


“I am a new one, my cover is new,

My wing–page rustles.

Your cover’s color is pale,

And ink dripped on your page.”


“Don’t laugh on me, no; you desire to be like me,

I was read more than you.

If how many times I was read,

So many questions would be solved.”


As I listen to the discussion of books,

My amazement increases.

Whether they are new or old,

My respect for books increases.



Where did you go burning my heart?

What for you became upset, love?

Did emotions end?

The talking finished?


Tongueless yellow loaves stayed,

In our trace, traces.

As a crane that lost its way over the night sky

The tear is in our eyes.


Separation, why are you so bitter pain?

There is no way to my past?

If I wanted to tell the stars a secret,

Their eyebrows would be also wet.

Where did you go, dear torture…



The sheet of silence became soaking wet,

The moon made a plopping sound and swam in the stream.

The pearls of the night in the sky

Added beauty to that gracefulness.


I remembered you on that peaceful night,

A bitter pain sliced my heart.

My feelings dripped from my eyes like the stars,

Where are you, darling? Reply, reply…


The full moon was tearing the darkness into pieces,

My loverlike heart was breaking into pieces.

Didn’t you know that I was in the world?

Did my wild wish reach you?


Maybe you will forget my fiery feelings,

Maybe this pain is strange for you.

Tell me, do you see these stars?

Do you feel the sound of the night?


Do you know what for the sheet of silence is wet?

You never know, people who knew it are closer to God.

For that reason a flash that called love

Brightens the nights of my life.



Spring came to see you,

The moon is going to stay on your dimple.

Kindness and love in your heart,

Will give the world beauty.


Woman, looking from your trace,

Drunkenly autumn sifted loaves.

When you walk with loyalty,

The pains of winter become better.


 Woman, your kindness is a gift for summer,

The world that got cold will heat up.

Woman, in your four sides,

A blessed word spins.


A mill of ancient life,

Touches your heart and wheeled.

If someone can take care of you,

Then he will be a human,

Then he will turn into a real man.  


I understood that what is in the heat,

I am the lightning as much as the sky.

I walked on purpose,

Looking back from the time.


My soul descended to my eyes,

It is getting older in my heart.

My mind that was taken by the wind

Is turning into my power.


There is a rebellion from my heart

To pupils of my eyes.

I flew without containing myself

In the dark falls.


What I lost or what I found

From the seas of life.

I couldn’t fit in the coast

In the highlands of my soul.


Sometimes I need peacefulness,

Sometimes I need silence.

So I walked on purpose

Looking back from the time.


 Makhliyokhon Umirzakova  was born on November 22, 1990 in the city of Margilan in Fergana region. She is a student of the faculty of art history of the Institute of National Art and Design in the name of Kamoliddin Behzod. She was a participant in the Republic seminar “The school of talent”. She became the winner of the State Scholarship in the name of Navoi in the 2020 – 2021 academic years. Her first poetry book “Tuyg ‘ular alangasi” (The Flame of Feelings) was published by Writers Union in 2021 year.

Makhliyokhon Umirzakova
Mokhira Eshpulatova

“The curse of the dragonflies” by Mokhira Eshpulatova, Uzbekistan

The curse of the dragonflies

The lazy sun of March began to set on the horizon. Bashorat, who was watching the sun from the hospital window, sighed deeply. “It was dawn lately, now it’s getting dark. It rises again in the morning and sets again.  It will happen again and again, but without the warmth, without the hope” she thought. For the last few months, nights have become fearful for Bashorat. And in the nights spent alone she would have only one thought in mind – death. She never felt sorry about her life. Perhaps, this character was inherited from her mother. She was just worrying about her foetus which was growing day by day under her heart, waiting to come to earth safely. She had waited to have a baby for years. “This one should live, at least this one, otherwise I can’t tolerate anymore” she thought. Concerning about her sister’s health, Yorkinoy ran to the hospital empty-handed. She had been helping her sister with food, clothing, and other personal needs but she couldn’t do anything to stop her pain and inner fear which disturbing her sister most. The “outside world” brought the girls together, who had grown up quarreling and compromising each day. Like many sisters, they became more sincere after getting married.

“It’s time to injections,” said the nurse. Bashorat looked back from the window with her tired eyes.

– Again? She asked frowning as she remembers the pain of that bitter medicine.

“What do you mean? Your medical treatment has just started. You should take it three times a day till the birth of your baby.

“Hmmm,” she said, lying on side hardly. – Well, I can handle anything for hold my baby at last.

“Don’t worry, sister, everything will be OK,” said the nurse calmly.

“God bless, she said in a weak voice. Bashorat has heard many of such words of soothing. Hope comes when you are weak, but it becomes very strong and sturdy like camel thorn. Bashorat hoped again that all would be well.

“I haven’t seen your sister today,” said the nurse, spraying the medicine into the air from the syringe needle.

“She’ll come, you know, she has a family and kids too.”

The medicine was flown slowly, and Bashorat covered her head with a pillow and remained silent. “It’s noting, Bashorat, you’ll have much worse treatment than that too” she thought as she recalled the birth process.

The night had set, and Yorkinoy hurried in, asked about her as usual, and tried to cheer her up. She told the news she had found out here and there. For her sister’s sake, Bashorat pretended to listening to her sister attentively, giving her some questions and smiling at respond.

“I feel bad, my sister, I’m seeing my parents and my brother in my dreams.”

“What’s the matter, why bother?”  Yorkinoy asked a silly question, even though everything was as clear as crystal.

“How’s my brother?” He seemed worried. I don’t know, he said that he would come to see me. Maybe that’s why I’m dreaming of him a lot.

– Yes, he wanted to come. You know, there’s a lot to do. But he will come.

“He’ll come. If I don’t leave before he comes,” said Bashorat in a weak voice.

“Don’t talk like that, understand? – Said Yorkinoy in fear. – Everything will be fine, absolutely. God please, you will recover, and you will be able to hug your child safely. Please don’t scare me like that.

“God please” said Bashorat, looking out of the window at the sky. You mean, like, God wanted three kids to die without seeing the world, right?  After all, isn’t He kind? The worst pain in the world is losing your kid, why am I being given this misfortune again and again? – Bashorat was speaking continuously and she did not even know where this power came from. She felt like a bowl full of aches and pains. Every word of useless consolation was “shaking her bowl of patience”.

“Bashar, my dear sister, I know you’re very tired.  But don’t blame God, just be a little more patient, be strong,” said Yorkinoy. She took Bashorat’s hand, and cried too. Bashorat saw and felt it, but did not respond with a single movement. Her eyes were fixed on the sky, and the sky was black.

“Yorkinoy,” she said in a pleading voice, “Tell my brother to come. I really want to see him. I didn’t him want to see me in a situation like this,” she said, caressing her belly cautiously, “but, I’m afraid that…” she could not continue her speech. She decided not to speak about it because of sister’s earlier request.

“All right,” said Yorkinoy, swallowing. “I’ll tell him.”

That night, Bashorat’s condition worsened. But it was too early to give birth. There was a pain inside her like a cat’s scratching with its sharp claws, and her bones were like splitting from each-other. Bashorat was feeling the pain in her body, and her sister also felt pain, it was a pain deep in her heart. Yorkinoy was not screaming like her sister. She was crying silently. According to superstition, in order to make the process easier, a woman should see her husband before giving a birth to the child. But that was not possible in their situation, because Bashorat’s husband was abroad. So, Yorkinoy called her brother again. She was a little relieved to hear that his brother was on his way to the hospital. Bashorat’s pain stopped. She was given medicine to calm down, and with the help of that medicine she could talk to told Yorkinoy.

– My brother …

“He’s on way”

“You’re cheating on me like a child.”

“No, no, that’s right!  I talked to him a while ago, and they’ll be here by the morning.

“I’m afraid I won’t make it until morning.”

After those words Yorkinoy started to cry.

“Bashar doesn’t talk like that.  Don’t scare me. I have nobody to rely on but you. Be strong, my dear sister.”

“Let me talk to my brother!”

Yorkinoy dialed the phone numbers with her trembling hands. When she heard his brother’s voice from the other side, held it to the ears of Bashorat.

– Alo, aloo.

– Brother!

“Bashar, sister, how are you?  I’m on my way.”

“Brother,” she lost her words as her feelings were mingling with each other.

“What do you say, mommy?”

Bashorat, who missed her brother, kept her eyes closed, not knowing what to say at first, but after a word she sobbed and cried.

“Nothing- I really wanted to hear you say that.” Bashorat was barely audible, and her frequent, short breaths could be clearly heard through the phone.  Sanjar used to call Bashorat a “mommy”.

“Mommy you’re my sister, be strong.  We’ll remember these days with a smile, you’ll see” said her brother.

“Brother, I want to be your little sister again. How you cared for us…how you worried about us…

“You’re still my little sister. I can still protect you from any trouble.”

“Remember, you hit me once?” I loved catching dragonflies of different colors flying along the stream. And you…

“Bashoraaat,” said Sanjar, worried that her thoughts were distracted.

“And you,” she continued with a sigh, as if she could not hear his brother, “would not.”  You asked not to torture them. And I didn’t do what you said. Instead, I grabbed a lot of them and put a thin stick in their back so that they could fly freely, but not so far away from me. I loved watching them fly. They fluttered their wings, made a croaking noise and dropped dead. Little did I know that I was hurting the dragonflies by watching them dance. They also had a mother, didn’t they?


“Brother, I was cursed by those dragonflies.”

He did not understand what Bashorat was saying. She was talking obeying her emotions, not her mind.

“Mommy, mommy, don’t talk like that” said her brother, realizing this.

“Tell me brother call me “mommy” as before. I see our parents in my dreams.  They have a new doll in their arms, just like the one I took for my little girl, and they’re gesturing and saying: “Come on, it’s for you…”

“Mommy, sister, don’t frighten your brother.  I’ll go ahead.  I’ll give my niece some of the best toys, just be strong!”

The Bashorat was strong. Although she was in pain, she did not cry behind her brother. She was operated on when her condition worsened. Just after midnight, they called her brother, who was traveling at high speed on the highway.

– My sister.

“Brother,” a crying voice came through the phone.  Her voice echoed in the hallway or in an empty room.  Sanjar’s heart pounded. He slammed on the car’s brakes. The car left a trail on the asphalt road about 10 meters away and stopped loudly.  He was afraid to ask questions.  He tried his best to move his tongue to ask what had happened, but his heart sank at the possible answer.  Noticing this, Yorkinoy burst into tears.

“Brother, we have a niece, she is healthy, thank God… but my sister is not well. They took her to the intensive care unit, brother…  Tell me what to do, brother?” cried Yorkinoy.

“What to do?” This question was running through his mind. He always found a solution to everything. He has always found a way for his sisters, not only as a brother, but also as a parent, so why is he watching the loss of his sister like a flower?  Sanjar got out of the car. His sister was unconscious and cannot hear or speak. Now it can be a dream for him to see the eyes that are waiting for him.  He was staring at the sky, burning with painful thoughts. The weather was cold and the sky was cloudy.  Lightning flashed from everywhere in the sky, piercing the heart of the cloud, and in a moment when the lightning flashed, it disappeared again, showing for a second how dark the sky was. The only thing Sanjar could do when he was helpless was to put his trust in Allah.  It was a source of strength, a way, a comfort. He wrote on the side of the road, on the crevice of the thorn, which he had always carried with him, in order to offer his prayers, which he had lost on the way.  He performed tayammum with soil.  Then he began to pray in his usual but slightly trembling voice. When he opened his hands in prayer, his voice turned to a trembling cry.

“Oh Allah, You are the owner of all property – Malik al Mulk! You are the Hakim, the Salam, and of course the Musavvir. You make our bodies, souls and destinies beautiful!  If you want something and you say, “Become,” it becomes. There is a believer walking near you.  It is up to you whether she stays or leaves!  You’re Razzakh (Razaq), who doesn’t let anyone to leave this world before they are cut of their rizkhi (Rizq)! I ask you for the good end. After all, no one but you can give us goodness as much as you want. ”

… The doctors ran in all directions to save Bashorat. Yorkinoy sat at the door of the intensive care unit, squeezing her tear-stained handkerchief until dawn. She would whisper something sitting in her seat, and what she said was no different from his brother’s.

It was a beautiful morning.  Finally, they saw each other, and while the father was enjoying the news about a baby and sharing it with his colleagues from the distance, Bashorat sniffed the little baby in her arms. She stared out of the window. Spring had finally entered her heart.  The dragonflies also will appear soon.  They’ll start dancing beautifully in the river near their house… Bashorat will be still enjoying watching them with her daughter. But this time she will not touch them, she will not hurt their wings.


Mokhira Eshpulatova is an Uzbek writer. She was born in Khatirchi district of Navoiy region, Republic of Uzbekistan on October 25, 1995. She graduated from Navoiy Pedagogical University. By profession she is a teacher of Uzbek language and literature.

Story translated into English by Hilola Mirzayeva

Mokhira Eshpulatova
田宇 James Tian, Immagine & Poesia, Lidia Chiarelli

“Someone will sink in the wind” poem by James Tian 田宇, China. Italian Translation and Art by Lidia Chiarelli.

“Sinking in the wind” @ Lidia Chiarelli Art

Someone Will Sink In The Wind

In a noisy world,

Longing for the silent warmth,

Just so,

Simple but realistic!


In a crowded street,

The air is full of selfish whispers,

Gonna avoid it,

This is the normal need!


I searched for the peace,

Through the Peace,

Things behind the masks are all different.

When everything is inevitably disappointed,

The only comfort is swaying in the wind.


Someone will sink in the wind,

There is nothing to pray for,

When all can only be dominated by lies.

How we can save,

This planet and ourselves?

The answer is obvious,

The most real is what you felt in your eyes!

By James Tian


Qualcuno affonderà nel vento

In un mondo rumoroso,

Desiderare il calore silenzioso,

Proprio così,

Semplice ma realistico!


In una strada affollata,

L’aria è piena di sussurri egoistici,

 È da evitare,

Questo è il normale bisogno!


Ho cercato la pace,

Attraverso la pace,

Le cose dietro le maschere sono tutte diverse.

Quando ogni cosa è inevitabilmente solo delusione,

L’unico conforto è ondeggiare nel vento.


Qualcuno affonderà nel vento,

Non c’è niente per cui pregare,

Quando tutto può essere dominato solo dalle bugie.

Come possiamo salvare,

Questo pianeta e noi stessi?

La risposta è ovvia,

La più reale è quella che hai sentito nei tuoi occhi!

Di James Tian

Tradotto da Lidia Chiarelli

田宇 James Tian

“Meaning” poem by 田宇 (James Tian) – China – Artwork and Italian translation by Lidia Chiarelli

Peace, a flower in the storm by Lidia Chiarelli


What do we think is the meaning of peace,

In our yellowing memories?

Is it so selfish,

That we don’t care about each other, It’s the final stability?

Or just a word calling with our mouth,

Without love as a basis?

What do we think is the meaning of peace,

In our ideal dreams?

Without a war,

Is that the true harmony?

Or a temporary emotion just because of special pity?

It’s the crack in our hearts now,

There is something wrong with our consciousness!

Stopping greedy desire can make the wandering love return,

The light of the world isn’t only at daybreak.

The excuses for attack is always prosperous,

But follow the love should be our special faith.

Even if the future is a jacket with bloody existence,

Everything is possible,

The fire symbolizing freedom isn’t extinguished.

By James Tian – China



Quale pensiamo sia il significato della pace,

Nei nostri ricordi ingialliti?

Siamo  così egoisti

Se  non ci importa l’uno dell’altro.

 È questa dunque la stabilità finale?

O è solo una parola detta con la bocca,

Senza l’amore come base?

Cosa pensiamo sia il significato della pace,

Nei nostri sogni ideali?

Nessuna guerra,

È questa la vera armonia?

O un’emozione temporanea solo per un momento di compassione ?

È la crepa nei nostri cuori ora,

C’è qualcosa di sbagliato nella nostra coscienza!

Fermare il desiderio avido può far tornare l’amore errante,

La luce del mondo non è solo all’alba.

Le scuse per l’attacco sono sempre numerose,

Ma seguire l’amore dovrebbe essere la nostra fede speciale.

Anche se il futuro appare adesso  come un abito insanguinato

Tutto è possibile,

Il fuoco che simboleggia la libertà non si spegne.

James Tian, China

 James Tian,Tianyu. His works have been published in more than 50 newspapers and magazines in China and abroad and have been translated into many languages.

The International Culture Publishing Company published the monograph “The light in the sky” Tianyu modern poetry anthology, Sichuan Nationalities Publishing House published “Tianyu lyrics anthology”, China Ground Publishing House published “Tianyu lyrics anthology 2” and other books.

Since 2018 he has been awarded with prestigious prizes of excellence. He is the main organizer of Zheng Xin International Poetry Award.

田宇 James Tian is one of the Representatives of Immagine & Poesia in China.

田宇 James Tian, Immagine & Poesia, Lidia Chiarelli

“Fire and Flowers” poem by 田宇 (James Tian) – China – Artwork and Italian translation by Lidia Chiarelli

Fire and Flowers

The place where ice and snow can’t stay,

It’s where the sunlight can smile like a kid.

The place where fear cannot roar,

It’s the garden where flowers will dream.

The love we need,

The time is speechless.

Give those life the chance who just suffered,

It’s also giving yourself the kindness.

Struggle is not the one that we want to see,

The world needs to let the endless desires lose their freedom and chiefs.

The smoke of gunfire hasn’t disappeared completely,

Why do we pursue the conquest and killing always?

Please care those sad voices come from the heart of the stars,

Just no sense to lose the bright sky even if it’s conquered.

Fortunately, hope still exists,

The sincere friendship we give each one every moment,

The melody of harmony has been played.



Fuoco e fiori

Il luogo dove il ghiaccio e la neve non si fermano

è Il luogo dove la luce del sole può sorridere come un bambino.

Il luogo dove la paura non può ruggire,

È il giardino dove i fiori sognano

L’amore di cui abbiamo bisogno

Il tempo è senza parole.

Offrire una possibilità a quanti soffrono

È anche fare a se stessi una gentilezza.

La lotta non è ciò che vogliamo vedere,

Il mondo deve lasciare che gli infiniti egoismi scompaiano con i loro capi

Il fumo degli spari non è svanito del tutto,

Perché perseguiamo sempre la conquista e l’uccisione?

 Sentiamo quelle voci tristi che provengono dal cuore delle stelle,

Non ha senso perdere il cielo luminoso che abbiamo conquistato.

Per fortuna, la speranza esiste ancora,

L’amicizia sincera che diamo a ciascuno ogni momento,

È stata suonata la melodia dell’armonia


Traduzione in italiano di Lidia Chiarelli


 James Tian,Tianyu. His works have been published in more than 50 newspapers and magazines in China and abroad and have been translated into many languages.

The International Culture Publishing Company published the monograph “The light in the sky” Tianyu modern poetry anthology, Sichuan Nationalities Publishing House published “Tianyu lyrics anthology”, China Ground Publishing House published “Tianyu lyrics anthology 2” and other books.

Since 2018 he has been awarded with prestigious prizes of excellence. He is the main organizer of Zheng Xin International Poetry Award.

田宇 James Tian is one of the Representatives of Immagine & Poesia in China.

田宇 James Tian, Lidia Chiarelli

Lidia Chiarelli – Winner at the 4th Huang Yazhou International Poetry Festival.

The list of the winners of The 4th Huang Yazhou International Poetry Festival.

The international poets group of this award was established for the first time in 2021. A total of 40 poets were shortlisted recommended by 田宇(James Tian).

After the selection, a total of 15 poets won the Excellent Poet Award.

阿布杜卡赫·科西莫夫(Abdukakhor Kosimov)

莉迪亚·基亚雷利(Lidia Chiarelli)

珍妮特·尤里卡(Jeanette Eureka)

叶莲娜·格里戈里耶夫娜·阿纳涅娃(Елена Григорьевна Ананьева)

克桑西·洪德鲁·希尔(Xanthi Hondrou-Hill)

埃韦利娜·玛丽亚·布加伊斯卡·贾沃卡(Ewelina Maria Bugajska Javorka)

安娜·史翠嘉(Ana Stjelja )

奥尔加·列瓦德娜娅(Ольга Левадная)

舒尔金娜·伊琳娜·瓦伦蒂诺夫娜(Шульгина Ирина Валентиновна)

伊登·索里亚诺·特立尼达(Eden Soriano Trinidad)

斯马拉格迪·米特罗普洛(Smaragdi Mitropoulou)

伊娃·彼得罗普鲁·利诺伊(Eva Petropoulou Lianoy)

卢西拉·特拉帕佐(Lucilla Trapazzo)

比索·娜塔莉(Bisso Natalie)

伊塞尔达·努内斯(Isilda Nunes)

D T Deepa, R Gopakumar

“My Sunflower field” poem by D T DEEPA (India), artwork by R Gopakumar (India/Baharain)

Sunflower Field by R GOPAKUMAR

My Sunflower field

I’m the guardian

Of the sunflower field

I’m the Sun also..

Not charming as Moon

Not beautiful as Stars…

Spread only a dim light

From this setting Sun

Yet my feeble rays

Adds colour and strength

To the tender minds..

Lots of sunflowers

Dancing around me

As in breez and

With full of smiles

Keeping away

My struggles and worries

Fills happiness..

In my mind and soul

This flower bed is my

Breath of life, my soul

They were with me

Forever, I wish.

D T Deepa

Kerala, India

About Poetess:

D T DEEPA, Born and brought up in Kerala, INDIA. She took her Post Graduation in Chemistry and Graduation in Education from the University of Kerala, doing Research in Chemistry, working as a Chemistry Lecturer. She is a singer and writer.


Gopakumar R.P.(India)
R. P. Gopakumar is an Indian artist based in Bahrain. He works in different media including Digital Art, Motion
Photography, Installation, Drawing, Painting and Print. He believes the work of art should change the existing visual,
intellectual and aesthetic sense and experiments with finding new visual phenomena. His motion photography was
shortlisted by the Saatchi Gallery London and Google+ for their inaugural Motion Photography Prize.