Poems about the homeland

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Xurshid DAVRON
POEMS ABOUT THE COUNTRY
09
VATAN
Let joy and sorrow be in your heart,
Not in books, not on paper.
Do you live in Boz, Bukhara,
Let him breathe with you.
Pick up your baby at noon,
Let the strings swing to the sky.
But you say gods in the beginning,
Put a sense of homeland in your heart.
Say, the moment you bend over in the fields,
Say, when the sun is setting in blood.
Say, joy trembles when sorrow,
Say, in the morning in a white shirt.
Cry at the funeral and say gods,
Tell me, between consciousness and struggle.
Until the feeling that is burning in our hearts
Let it resonate in the hearts of children.
The glorious destiny of Mother Tomaris,
The sound of Jaloliddin's sword,
To our hearts, perhaps, it was not enough,
Otherwise, my people, allang - remember.
Beruni star, Sino kahkashoni
Let our way shine from the sky.
The holy blood of Mahmud Torabi
Let the hearts of the children flow.
From the rules of Hazrat Sahibkiran
Let him move and illuminate his thoughts,
Let the hearts shine Navoi
The wise consciousness that spreads the pen.
Mirzo Ulugbek's Rasadin Mountain,
Let the light shine on our path,
Every brave man who gave his life for his homeland
Let the heart breathe, let the heart live.
Homeland - joy in the heart, sorrow, shawl,
The sound in his heart keeps him alive.
Homeland is like the sun,
The homeland breathes like a human being.
MY HOLY WORD: COUNTRY
Whomever the heart loves, it stands out,
No matter how many eyes, dreams again.
Whatever the heart desires
When he opens his mouth, he speaks.

Yusuf Khos Hojib. Good knowledge. XI century.
This heart says Vatan, Vatan in my eyes,
No matter how hard he looks, he says Vatan again.
Lying in the deepest part of my heart
My sacred, foreword is the Homeland.
Homeland cried in my eyes at night,
Varakhsha cried, Gurganj cried
My eye drops are huge from the sun,
My eye drops are sometimes bloody, sometimes ganj.
This is the freedom of the heart, the freedom in my eyes,
A bird that flies freely in the sky in my eyes.
Dreams in my chest are endless, alive,
Chains, ropes were broken.
The sun cried in my eyes at night,
The stars cried, the crescent cried.
My eye drops are sometimes ice, sometimes stone,
My eye drops are the woman I love.
This heart says nation, you say, my people,
Beloved, hunter, you are my blind eye.
You shone like a light between my pupils,
You are the word that flows from the bottom of my heart.
At night my eyes, my people, wept,
Navoi cried, Bobir cried.
My eye drops are sometimes flowers, sometimes thorns,
Eye drops are sometimes navo.
… This heart says Homeland, but in my eyes
Eladi Shirak's white rope.
My heart says Vatan, but in my throat
The surface of the dor that destroyed the mashrab.
It is the Motherland, but that moment
It makes my eyes water Qutayba, Botu.
The heart says Vatan, but wakes up
The fire of raids in my eye drops.
This heart says Vatan, but in my chest
A traitor stabbed with a knife sucks blood.
I'm lying on the yellow grass.
Cheriks pass towards the battles.
Whispers whispered in my ear:
"Stay, stay, the homeland is waiting."
This heart says Homeland and Mother Sun.
I will be resurrected by absorbing the light.
And my appetite is free, endless,
The love of my great Motherland.
Blood begins to sing in the awakened vein,
Sings of devotion to the Motherland.
My country lives in a tegram,
Bokurman sings in tegram spring.
And the sun is huge in the sky,
There is a high wish in his song.
As long as this sun is alive I am,
It is called Vatan again.
Lying in the deepest part of my heart
The most blessed, my only word is the Motherland.
Poems about the homeland
Poems about the homeland
JONIM ICHRA JONIMDURSAN
There are many heavenly lands in this world,
There are many black and white hands in this world,
But there is no one in this world like you,
You are my soul, Uzbekistan.
There are traces of my ancestors in your soil,
The salt of my ancestors' sweat is left,
My grandmother's eyes were on every corner
You are my soul, Uzbekistan.
Uzbek glue, nuri diydam, karagimsan,
Uzbek glue, you are the sky and the soil,
You are both my joy and my happiness,
You are my soul, Uzbekistan.
In your cradle you made the worlds,
How many geniuses the world has discovered,
My child, your heart is broken,
You are my soul, Uzbekistan.
You have become a shield in the hands of the Lord,
In Ulugbek's eyes you were the sky,
You were a wish in the heart of Mirza Babur,
You are my soul, Uzbekistan.
Hand wrapped farmer's glue, sultan glue,
Glue to the chest always balogardon glue,
I am the owner of my country,
You are my soul, Uzbekistan.
COUNTRY WALLS
These walls are our shoulders,
These walls are our feet.
Our motherland on our shoulders -
Wells, hills, gardens.
Our word - every stone on the wall,
Our eyes are the paint on the stone.
Our footprint is everyone in the country
Fortress, tower, madrasa, quarter.
Towers are our ancient,
Cisterns are our tears.
Each of the inscriptions is a stone, read,
Stones laid on the foundation.
Otherwise, in the Shoxizin,
Yo Khiva's Short Minaret -
On the blessed ground called the heart
Pride maple did not rise.
Otherwise Gori Amir
Spring on the stones -
Surprised by the mystery,
The breasts were not filled with dignity.
We did not walk so many triggers,
There would be no prosperity in the body.
There would be a defect in the heart -
Ordinary Ruhobod.
Imam Bukhari-yu Shahi Naqshband
Imam Termizi, Najmiddin Kubro -
The clear faith of the ancestors
Knitting that gives hearts.
If we do not know them
Our eyes did not shine so much.
The heavens did not tremble
When poetry is sas, our voice.
We call it Motherland!
Vatan -
This Registan, this Ichanqala.
From childhood they are ours
God said in our heads.
Homeland - suddenly under the ground,
Like an old song piece,
The floods passed and caught the eye
Inscriptions are the heart of ancestors.
Sunk into the chests of castles
Bullet marks - look at the wound!
They are aching in the heart
Bujur wound, suffering, ingroq.
Call them carved eyes
Don't think - they will see.
They say that in the world we live in,
Our footsteps are correcting.
If they bend over,
Let's hold our shoulders right away.
In front of a falling minor
An indifferent stranger, a savage!
Like an instrument waiting for an earthquake
Always be vigilant heart.
Don't lie like a mirage
Feeling deceptive, a fleeting pastime.
Let's hold the shoulders, until
May our shoulders be filled with power.
Our eyes are white on our shoulders
Black is our country, our motherland.
Hold the shoulders… Walls
Drowning is a timeless compassion.
When they fall… They fall
Only on children.
1981
 We sincerely congratulate you on the twenty-seventh anniversary of Independence Day, the most cherished and great holiday - the long-awaited and aspired by our people for centuries, which has radically changed the meaning of our lives, our consciousness!
Khurshid DAVRON
POEMS ABOUT THE COUNTRY
09
VATAN
Let joy and sorrow be in your heart,
Not in books, not on paper.
Do you live in Boz, Bukhara,
Let him breathe with you.
Pick up your baby at noon,
Let the strings swing to the sky.
But you say gods in the beginning,
Put a sense of homeland in your heart.
Say, the moment you bend over in the fields,
Say, when the sun is setting in blood.
Say, joy trembles when sorrow,
Say, in the morning in a white shirt.
Cry at the funeral and say gods,
Tell me, between consciousness and struggle.
Until the feeling that is burning in our hearts
Let the children resonate in their hearts.
The glorious destiny of Mother Tomaris,
The sound of Jaloliddin's sword,
To our hearts, perhaps, was not enough,
Otherwise, my people, allang - remember.
Beruni star, Sino kahkashoni
Let our way shine from the sky.
The holy blood of Mahmud Torabi
Let the hearts of the children flow.
From the rules of Hazrat Sahibkiran
Let him move and illuminate his thoughts,
Let the hearts shine Navoi
The wise consciousness that spreads the pen.
Mirzo Ulugbek's Rasadin Mountain,
Let the light shine on our path,
Every brave man who gave his life for his homeland
Let the heart breathe, let the heart live.
Homeland - joy in the heart, sorrow, shawl,
The sound in his heart keeps him alive.
Homeland is like the sun,
The homeland breathes like a human being.
MY HOLY WORD: COUNTRY
Whomever the heart loves, it stands out,
No matter how many eyes, dreams again.
Whatever the heart desires
When he opens his mouth, he speaks.

Yusuf Khos Hojib. Good knowledge. XI century.
This heart says Vatan, Vatan in my eyes,
No matter how hard he looks, he says Vatan again.
Lying in the deepest part of my heart
My sacred, foreword is the Homeland.
Homeland cried in my eyes at night,
Varakhsha cried, Gurganj cried
My eye drops are huge from the sun,
My eye drops are sometimes bloody, sometimes ganj.
This is the freedom of the heart, the freedom in my eyes,
A bird that flies freely in the sky in my eyes.
Dreams in my chest are endless, alive,
Chains, ropes were broken.
The sun cried in my eyes at night,
The stars cried, the crescent cried.
My eye drops are sometimes ice, sometimes stone,
My eye drops are the woman I love.
This heart says nation, you say, my people,
Beloved, hunter, you are my blind eye.
You shone like a light between my pupils,
You are the word that flows from the bottom of my heart.
At night my eyes, my people, wept,
Navoi cried, Bobir cried.
My eye drops are sometimes flowers, sometimes thorns,
Eye drops are sometimes navo.
… This heart says Homeland, but in my eyes
Yeladi Shirak's white rope.
My heart says Vatan, but in my throat
The surface of the dor that destroyed the mashrab.
It is the Motherland, but that moment
It makes my eyes water Qutayba, Botu.
The heart says Vatan, but wakes up
The fire of raids in my eye drops.
This heart says Vatan, but in my chest
A traitor stabbed with a knife sucks blood.
I'm lying on the yellow grass.
Cheriks pass towards the battles.
Whispers whispered in my ear:
"Stay, stay, the homeland is waiting."
This heart says Homeland and Mother Sun.
I will be resurrected by absorbing the light.
And my appetite is free, endless,
The love of my great Motherland.
Blood begins to sing in the awakened vein,
Sings of devotion to the Motherland.
My country lives in a tegram,
Bokurman sings in tegram spring.
And the sun is huge in the sky,
There is a high wish in his song.
As long as this sun is alive I am,
It is called Vatan again.
Lying in the deepest part of my heart
The most blessed, my only word is the Motherland.
YOU ARE MY SOUL
There are many heavenly places in this world,
There are many black and white hands in this world,
But there is no one in this world like you,
You are my soul, Uzbekistan.
There are traces of my ancestors in your soil,
The salt of my ancestors' sweat is left,
My grandmother's eyes were on every corner
You are my soul, Uzbekistan.
Uzbek glue, nuri diydam, karagimsan,
Uzbek glue, you are the sky and the soil,
You are both my joy and my happiness,
You are my soul, Uzbekistan.
In your cradle you made the worlds,
How many geniuses the world has discovered,
My child, your heart is broken,
You are my soul, Uzbekistan.
You have become a shield in the hands of the Lord,
In Ulugbek's eyes you were the sky,
You were a wish in the heart of Mirza Babur,
You are my soul, Uzbekistan.
Hand wrapped farmer's glue, sultan glue,
Glue to the chest always balogardon glue,
I am the owner of my country,
You are my soul, Uzbekistan.
COUNTRY WALLS
These walls are our shoulders,
These walls are our feet.
Our motherland on our shoulders -
Wells, hills, gardens.
Our word - every stone on the wall,
Our eyes are the paint on the stone.
Our footprint is everyone in the country
Castle, tower, madrasa, quarter.
Towers are our ancient,
Cisterns are our tears.
Each of the inscriptions is a stone, read,
Stones laid on the foundation.
Otherwise, in the Shoxizin,
Yo Khiva's Short Minaret -
On the blessed ground called the heart
Pride maple did not rise.
Otherwise Gori Amir
Spring on the stones -
Surprised by the mystery,
The breasts were not filled with dignity.
We did not walk so many triggers,
There would be no prosperity in the body.
There would be a defect in the heart -
Ordinary Ruhobod.
Imam Bukhari-yu Shahi Naqshband
Imam Termizi, Najmiddin Kubro -
The clear faith of the ancestors
Knitting that gives hearts.
If we do not know them
Our eyes did not shine so much.
The heavens did not tremble
When poetry is sas, our voice.
We call it Motherland!
Vatan -
This Registan, this Ichanqala.
From childhood they are ours
God said in our heads.
Homeland - suddenly under the ground,
Like an old song piece,
The floods passed and caught the eye
Inscriptions are the heart of ancestors.
Sunk into the chests of castles
Bullet marks - look at the wound!
They are aching in the heart
Bujur wound, suffering, ingroq.
Call them carved eyes
Don't think - they will see.
They say that in the world we live in,
Our footsteps are correcting.
If they bend over,
Let's hold our shoulders right away.
In front of a falling minor
Indifferent stranger, savage!
Like an instrument waiting for an earthquake
Always be vigilant heart.
Don't lie like a mirage
Feeling deceptive, a fleeting pastime.
Let's hold the shoulders, until
May our shoulders be filled with power.
Our eyes are white on our shoulders
Black is our country, our motherland.
Hold the shoulders… Walls
Drowning is a timeless compassion.
When they fall… They fall
Only on children.
1981
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