Life
My age has passed thirty-five by a year,
Translated from Uzbek · Original text
My age has passed thirty-five by a year,The chemistry of youth has waned in my frame.Once the body could not hold its fire — it overflowed,Today the soul’s modesty slowly gains the upper hand.Perhaps the madness of youth is slowly leaving,Now a grown man’s reason looks on with calm.Today a spark from non-being is plain to the eye,Now it is silence that has the right to speak.Now the heart is frail — wounded by every word,Now the pressure of the blood climbs and falls.Now the soul longs for faithfulness alone,It longs for one to share its pain — a true companion.Now there is no strength to chase and catch time,Now no strength is left for ignorant debate.Lest some stray arrow pierce the heart,The body openly keeps to its retreat.O hasty dear friend, O ardent flesh,Why do you never rest, why is your torment so great?I gave you the name of one most dear,Why does your patience not consent to peace?Why, muddying a life that lasts a moment,Do you plaster darkness over the eyes?Why, making a moment’s life salty and bitter,What is it you seek in this narrow world?This broken body standing before youHas run and rushed and striven without end.In the end, it has cast a shroud upon its shoulder,For the field called mortality has come into view…Akrom MALIK
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