Lions about mother

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POEMS ABOUT MOTHER

Alisher NAVOI
FOUR

It is under the feet of mothers
Ravzai paradise and demon garden.
If you want a window garden visolin
Be the soil of the mother's feet.

* * *

Sacrifice your head to the spoon,
Make the body sadqa ano head.
Night is the light of day
One is the moon, the other is the sun.

Mirtemir
SEN ONA…

He told Alisher to sleep
You - him.
In his arms, Babur grew up
You - him.
He sent Torobi to a heavy battle
You - him.
He enlightened the world in its light
You - him.
When he cried, the world trembled
You - him.
His smile cared for happiness
You - him.
The cradle of genius shook vigilantly
You - him.
Mehri flourished in the spring
You - him.
You sent your only son to battle,
Be strong, mother!
There is no mother in love with the motherland,
Dear mother…

FAME
Oh MOTHER…

To Zulfiya

Ever since he came into the world in the blink of an eye
What I didn't see was my head.
I knew more or less the secret of life,
I am forty years old.

I have made many friends year after year,
They said respectfully, "my friend," "my friend,"
I grew up: a lover with his head on my chest,
He said, "Blessed are you, my mountain!"

Oh, mother, none of it is sweet
"My child!" from a word you said!
Oh, the sun is hidden in your mother's love,
What a wonderful flower in every trace!

FOUR

The best, loving mother in the world,
This is my mom, you know, guys!
Be a propeller, my sons and daughters
Don't let my mother have any worries!

Torah SOLOMON
POOR

My mother, who is 94 years old this year, is an exercise in honor of Mukarrama master Nurmat Polvon girls

Somehow frustrated,
Both bent this inflexible head,
Tears well up in my eyes,
I can't stand it
A grieving mother cries,
The rest lie and cry.

When I return from the dry hand hunt,
If the black pot is boiling,
Both lost prey, prey,
If I get into debt, it's from someone
My mother cries for comfort,
The rest lie and cry.

Sometimes right, sometimes wrong,
When I see oppression, you are an unbeliever.
When I stood behind you, your heart was dry,
If my dignity is ruined, you are dust.
My mother cries,
The rest lie and cry.

Talk to your brother…
However, the origin of the dispute:
One demands honor, one demands property.
"It's my white milk, against my will,"
My poor mother cries,
The rest lie and cry.

When it comes to testing,
If I lose unfairly on the field,
If I don't have a name in the world,
Who is known as friend or foe then
My mother cries for me,
The rest lie and cry.

Lady one side, if I am one side,
He is superior, if I am naked,
This is also a rare disability -
If I am side by side on a wooden horse
The moon is eclipsed, My mother cries,
The rest lie and cry.

If I'm wrong, it's my fault,
Don't panic,
Please accept my apologies,
Do not hold back, my God,
Don't cry, sweet mother,
Dear Parents

Husnidin SHARIPOV
A MOTHER'S PRAYER

The nights are long, the nights are long,
Until the wee hours of the morning, my child.
Listen to the waves of the heart,
What comes to mind, my child.

The child is the flower of the mother's life,
An ointment for pain, a companion to happiness,
No one needs anyone,
Gratitude hurts your young soul, my child.

Please don't sit in my head day and night,
If you appear enough, I often have eyebrows,
Maybe you have a handful of food,
Talk about rubbing salt in my wounds - d'oh!

When I go home, I'm overwhelmed,
The scattering grandchildren jumped up and down,
If I lift it, do not take it from my hand,
Buds fit me too, baby.

A royal byte of your dear life,
When the songs overflow from within you
Explain your value to me,
Don't be unaware of your pain, child.

A crane that loves its homeland,
Don't even look at every particle.
Don't drink, don't smoke, don't walk,
Let your footsteps be safe, my child.

Goodbye one day,
Even when my mornings are dark,
When I see your happiness, I'm happy, I'm happy,
You are here, and so are we, my child.

Abdulla ORIPOV
UZBEK MOTHER

You are great, you are great,
You are the bridegroom and you are the bridegroom.
You are the sweetest thing in the world,
It's time to dump her and move on.
O, Uzbek mother, Uzbek mother.

I have praised you as Tomaris,
You are the watchman who shook the cradle of Timur,
You are my grandmother, rare,
It's time to dump her and move on.
O, Uzbek mother, Uzbek mother.

It is not in vain that the Motherland is called the Mother,
When the mother commands, she does not turn back,
You are the Ka'bah, the Holy House,
It's time to dump her and move on.
O, Uzbek mother, Uzbek mother.

What didn't happen to you,
Your destiny is like a homeland,
Although Babur is a king, he is poor,
It's time to dump her and move on.
O, Uzbek mother, Uzbek mother.

Sometimes it melts and fills up like Barchin,
You were like cotton, Tursunoy,
Your emblem laughs like a star in the flames,
It's time to dump her and move on.
O, Uzbek mother, Uzbek mother.

If your child is happy, you are happy too,
You just said baby, lived, burned,
When you hit the spot, you burn, tonding,
Time to tell the cat, the room of speech,
O, Uzbek mother, Uzbek mother.

The future mare is at your wedding,
Paradise is definitely at your feet,
Homeland is where you are,
The time has come, by the way, the room of speech,
O, Uzbek mother, Uzbek mother.

I bow to you this time,
The most royal byte for you,
Say your prayers to the Holy Land,
It's time to dump her and move on.
O, Uzbek mother, Uzbek mother.

You can read Abdulla Aripov's poem "Onajon" on this page.

Goodbye MATJON
THE WORD OF MOTHER

Dew from the stars,
When viewed from the horizon, the earth,
With my eyelashes in the sun
I wrote the mother word as if it were a poem.

Amu flow example cloud,
Amu flows on the horizon,
Forget the shore,
He will not forget the grass!

To the name of every green, every leaf
He bows down from the mountains,
Next to the word mother
I wanted to draw a picture of MAYSA.

Butterfly color, nightingale tone
The moment intoxicated with the discovery,
The mother forbids the word layer
I wrote it slowly as SPRING…

I went to Mother's name
To the last corner of the earth.
Now to the word Mother
I boldly write: WORLD!

I sing it as a star,
It is the Motherland,
He is the Great Throne.
I think of him a thousand metaphors,
I will deliver even a million…

On the ground, but thousands of people
It is sacred to know the mother's name.
From a single word called war
He can save mothers!

Rauf PARPI
LETTER TO MY MOTHER

I heard, mother, you're upset,
I'm sorry, I didn't write you a letter.
Although I wish for love,
I was attached to my bright days.

Your breath hits my face warm,
The room is filled with wonderful light.
Praying under my picture
Are you crying again, motherfucker?

That is, my dear Motherland,
Don't worry so much, I'm sorry,
I'm still like my father,
My city is on the rise.

I know yomon it's bad to lose a secret,
Wish your son endurance along the way.
Sometimes I drink what I find
With ulfats without losing the secret.

But oh, I don't know, as if silently,
Someone is chasing me.
Maybe someone about me
Uses ugly jokes, lies…

Mom, I want a song that hasn't been sung
And yet the soul becomes deceitful.
Maybe I'll cancel the pen,
Netayin, tell the truth, mother.

Autumn undresses the green tree,
Goodbye spring in my footsteps.
The eye that does not notice careless youth,
Where to look, mother, him.

I know… squeaking stones in my path,
Saffron autumn is a new dream.
Leaving the tumultuous peace of the city,
I haven't been to you in a long time.

I heard, mother, you're upset,
I'm sorry, I didn't write you a letter.
Although I wish for love,
I was attached to my bright days.

It will be like misfortune,
Fate is like unhappiness without you,
Without you my dream would not have shone,
The nickname of the world would be Hasrat.

Ma'ruf JALIL

I WANT TO SEE YOU, MOTHER

My head when I reach heaven from joy
My friend and cousin when we get together.

Or if something bad happens to me,
Or thank my dad if someone says.

Women you meet on the road,
Innocent dreams when passed from heart to tongue.

He said, "Even though he looks proud.
There was no one like your mother. ”

I want to see you, mother.

Moonlit nights when I walk in the garden with my friend
New plans born in my mind.

Mysterious singing, the brooms are below,
Luckily for the stars -

Shabboda silage flower face,
I want to listen to what he said.

"A moment to see my child's neck"
Maybe you came out of the ground as a flower.

That's why I miss the flower.
Armon cries in a weeping heart,

I can't imagine you!
My heart breaks when I don't remember.

How happy they are to have a mother,
They do not smoke like orphans.

You went and gave me your life
I miss your kindness in my heart.

Whenever I want to see you, mother.

Aydin HOJIYEVA
MY MOTHER

Mom, in your eyes
There were breaths of the day,
Mom, to your faces
The moon had lusts.
Mom, the world is with you
Behigulday was fragrant.
The nights are clear, the days are happy,
The breezes were dutar.
You come in and out of my dreams
You cut my hair.
Sometimes over my head like an angel
You will see my rest.
I'd like to have a hug, please.
Where would I run if I missed you?
When my tears turn into flowers,
Where would you like to shave your legs?
My mother! My dear!

Khurshid DAVRON
THREE POEMS

* * *

There is only one eye in this world -
Magic, simple.
There is only one word in this world -
Bright, eternal…
I can see it but,
I say that word though
There is only one grave in this world,
Hope he waits for me.

He asks me about the winds,
Asks me out of the way…
There is only one grave in this world,
Hope he waits for me.
Silently sinking to the ground,
The pain that has accumulated in my eyes
To his saffron grass
When I cry, when I cry, when I cry…

* * *

My mother is old. In the dream
He talks to my father.
At the age that flowed from his eyes
I see the opposite of my father.

My mother is old. I'm afraid
Sometimes the pain tightens my throat.
When I close my eyes I see it,
Hence the tears fill the eyes.

I do not write letters. Sometimes the wire stumbles
I ask about the situation… But
Sometimes waking up in the middle of the night
I think, staring silently at the ceiling.

Dew when landing in the fields,
I greet the morning trembling,
"Mother," I said, "forgive me."
"Mother," I say, my lips quivering.

THE POET'S MOTHER

The mother came from a distant village
She began living with her son
And when the table is set
Shirmoy bit the edge of the bread.

Washed a market dirt,
Water poured on the withered flowers.
When the grandchildren return from kindergarten,
He told them a story.

The house was quiet,
Her beloved son is in the corner of the house,
Silent as he bends over the paper
In the smoke when he wrote the poem.

Anxious to step on,
He was afraid to breathe.
He said that the nights do not suffocate
He refused to be in the morning.

But one day the taste escaped,
The light went out before his eyes.
It fell out of his hands,
The bowl was broken.

He immediately regained consciousness,
The world in front of the shakes.
To his son who ran out
He whispered, "Shall I go, boy?"

Recreation is perfect
TO MY MOTHER

1

The stars cried all night, mother,
The dew is glistening on the leaves.
Silent in the morning, saying nostalgia
Roads that head to distant horizons.
He is frustrated at the beginning of the road
The innocent joy of a long childhood.
Oh, it bothers me from the roads
Years in the world, years of longing.

2

Somewhere in the distance, a fig tree,
The distances seem too long.
The wind blows without knowing it,
There is a munis image in my eyes.
Kurshar memories are slow,
Where does it start, after all, where?
This rabbit will walk away from me,
Slowly falls into the familiar grave.

3

When the winds blow silently,
Quiet nights pour into my eyes.
It sounds like a tired hope
Roads to distant horizons.
And the choirs miss me on the horizon,
I'm gasping for air.
I miss you, mother, I miss you
See you on the far horizon ham

A'zam OKTAM
TO MY MOTHER

With a smile like a cry
I'm coming back to you again.
No one here cared,
I tell you my heart's content.
I fell from heaven to earth,
The betrayal of friends bowed my head.
Love, I'm tired of the visor,
Even happiness touches my soul.
Without poetry - so many awkward days,
My happy days are over.
Inspiration makes me feel like a princess
"Citizen, citizen, fu, look!" he says.
When I raise my head to the glass,
My heart pounded.
"The poet put the word into a thousand melodies,
A poet who sings a thousand songs for a poem! ”
I'm nervous when I look at the world -
Orphans and widows will still clash.
The lust of the hearth of war is evil -
He will have firewood, children, flowers! ..
We must reach the destination,
The end of the struggle is happiness.
Sacrifice is also a blessing,
We need the homeland, we need the homeland!
If you don't live your whole life is useless -
There is love in one heart and happiness.
Don't go for the blue future,
It is a "black letter" of goodness.
My address is far away, ask me for directions
My grandfather is as white as Muqanna's shirt.
May peace prevail on earth,
The fate of the world is even brighter!

Zebo MIRZA
TO MY MOTHER

Her white hair was white at night,
His life is a banner of honest love.
Oh, the world of faces
It is more beautiful than beautiful.
(I could not be more sensitive),
My father was in pain,
To my mother's heart
Give me a handful of light, my God!
It is like a fountain of water
I ran past you and left.
I caught a river for others,
Oh, my mother, I forgot you.
Swallows are better than me,
Happiness pours into his free arms.
I'm his fingernail too,
Not worth it, to the nail polish!
Scrape the spinach neck,
Where spring is in a hurry,
Lord, make me a flower,
At least to his feet! ..

Behzod FAZLIDDIN
A POEM WRITTEN BY MY MOTHER

White flowers in my hair,
Come on, sweat them, baby.
Roads on the road,
Be my child, my child.

I hid the moon in my chest,
I made tea for the stars,
I expected more from your father,
Be lucky, baby.

Put down your trembling words,
Put down your muffled voice,
Put your pen and paper,
Be my son, my child.

Did I give birth for the road,
Did I give birth to a flower,
Did I give birth for money,
Give it to me, son.

Swallow singling weak,
Take the letter from the wing.
You have a lot of work, maybe
Don't come, baby…

source: kh-davron.uz/library/uzbek/onajon-ozbek-shoirlarini-onaga-bagishlagan-sherlari.html