Homeland
The same two rivers, the same land,
Translated from Uzbek · Original text
The same two rivers, the same land,A glorious realm, the trace of kingdoms.This corner that was a school of saints,The invincible word of great ancestors.Their wakeful lives passed on horseback,Valiant ones who never knew what fear is.In the heart lives the memory of hero forefathers,One is Jalaliddin, another Baysunqur.Drunk, utterly drunk with love of the Truth,Those who worshipped the One God.Having set out for the world of spirits,Those who long for courage in their descendants.They never fell for Satan's incitement,They tied the dog of the ego by the neck and hanged it.Taking brave and noble men as friends and kin,They wrote in blood on the tablet of love and sincerity.Seeing their ego as low and base as dust,They called their hearts toward the heavens.Walking bravely in the path of the prophets,The light of sainthood shone on their faces.This is Shash and Samarkand, Khiva, Bukhara,Andijan, Namangan, great Khorezm.Asking — asking the earth, the sky, the heavens,They set their resolve only on the heights.When base enemies suddenly setTheir unclean feet on the pure soil —Though liars and traitors betrayed it,It has stayed attentive to the call of the Truth.Never from the true path, the path of freedom,Has this great people slipped or turned back.Though the enemy bark without end on the right and left,It rises calmly like the great mountains.The heart of Turkestan, the glory of the Turks,The pillar of Islam, the banner of the Truth —This is Mawarannahr, the aim of friends,The lamp of gnosis that lit the face of the earth.Whatever befell you, you did not fall,You lived through long years of blood and glory.Let your stature be equal to the sky,But never forget who your ancestors truly are.Whatever tricks the slaves of Satan may play,Let the dajjals scatter all they have with cunning!O falcons and eagles of the ancient land,Don't fill your bellies pecking at carrion.Purity and chastity are your salvation and your wings,Loyalty and love — purer than anything.If you wish for an unfading, eternal life,Find the source of the oldest springs.Independence is the grandfather who swallowed blood under oppression,The sigh and cry of grandmothers' hearts.However much the world may flail around you,Never let the memory of your ancestors leave your mind!Be like your forefathers — honorable and mighty,Longing and yearning for the sight of the Truth!Then no harm will reach your freedom,Then the state will be lofty and enduring!Akrom MALIK
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