Life
One day dear friends gathered, glad at heart,
Translated from Uzbek · Original text
One day dear friends gathered, glad at heart,And talked about the bleeding of the heart.Their hearts took flight like birds,The thick cloud of suffering dispersed.Circling round and round, the course of the talkCame to the doings of God's servants.The outer and inner linings of secrets were laid open,The talk turned to the sighs and moans of lovers.One man of spiritual states said: “This is my joy —To do a good deed for the pleasure of my Lord.Through this deed the anxious heart finds peace,Black frost and winter turn to spring.”Then one whose heart was roasted by griefSaid, weeping and weeping, his head bowed low:“What business have good deeds and merit with me —If only I don't sin, that day is my holiday…”Akrom MALIK
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