Wisdom
The words that leave my tongue are dressed in finery,
Translated from Uzbek · Original text
The words that leave my tongue are dressed in finery,If you speak them, they seem to break into a dance.But heavy, heavy worries weigh me down,As if carrion birds had perched upon my breast.If only my words would serve the cause of good,If only worthy souls would hold them in esteem.If my words do not bite the tyrant’s heart,If my words do not gladden the heart of the oppressed;If my words cannot lead the way to truth,If my words are not sought among the hearts;What use is there in bringing them to gatherings,What use is there in driving thought in every direction!If my words are dead, where shall I bury them, O God?..With my eyes open I shall close my eyes, O God…Make my words a proof in my favor, You Yourself!Make them the water of life for dead hearts, You Yourself!So that the heart of the one who reads them comes alive, henceforth,And his paths turn toward poverty and self-effacement, henceforth!Akrom MALIK
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