Patience
Thank you, my thanks to you,
Translated from Uzbek · Original text
Thank you, my thanks to you,My love to you, O gentle Time!Slowly, slowly you set me free,Although the task was hard indeed.The blood upon my wounds has dried,My pains have quieted, thank God.The blood is washed away — the daggersHad sunk deep into my heart.Now and then, forlorn, I remember,A bitter memory stabs me through.If only the steed named Time would gallopAnd carry me farther off again.Once I used to say: if only time stood still,If it stopped, so be it, I would say.But today, how strange this state of mine,I have come to say: let it quickly pass away.Good fortune seems to be dawning bright,The end of its rays cannot be seen.But look, as if against my happiness,The thing called Time is walking slow.Akrom MALIK
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