YOUTH (1917 - 1941). FIRST VERSES

MY WORK



I said that you are my life, my peace and my work

Luck lives with you, you are my joy and my work.

Like a spiritual love, a song for the lips, my pride, my labour.

My honour, my joy, my harmony - my labour!



I will boast of the pleasure of my work,

Spring of pure love, passion of my glorious work.

Will never go out, the flame of my boundless soul

My pride, my joy, my peace - my work!



You are beautiful, you are sweet, my testament is yours,

Let the desert be filled with flowers, my hopes and dreams for you,

Let the enemies fall, drown in blood, my letter is written in the heart for you,

My pride, my joy, my peace - my work!



I opened my eyes to see you, and feel happy about you

My land is laughing with you, and I enjoy being married to you.

With you the world is bright, you gave me bread and salt,

My pride, my joy, my peace - my work!



1938

I HAVE A LAND OF FLOWERS



It summoned the sun.

I have a garden; I have a land of flowers.

My land sings of love

I have a melody; I have a bard.



Scatter the rays like the sun.

I smile, because I am dear to someone.

I’m full like a smiling moon

Because I have love.



Love is always in my heart

I have a free homeland full of flowers.

I’m so happy in this flower garden

I have a garden, a lush flower garden.



Samarkand, 12 June, 1938



SEVGI BILAN GOLIBMAN HAR ON (I Catch the Moment with Love) is a previously unpublished collection of poems with the first poems by Sh. R. Rashidov, which conveys the spirit of that period, largely lost now. The collection was published in 2020 for the 75th anniversary of the victory over fascism. The collection includes poems written during the Second World War in the trenches of three battlefronts, where young Sharaf Rashidov fought.

THE BUD



You sent me a beautiful

Scarf made of white fabric.

A lovely flower bud

Was wrapped in the scarf.

The bud is our true life,

For which we have love.

The death wants

To pick the bud

And destroy it.

So, protect the bud

This is my request, dear.

I’m just a flower garden,

And you are the gardener,

Take care of it, my dear.

I live for victory

May good luck be with me in a battle.

Although the enemy can injure me again,

I will not stay silent.

In the battle, my darling.

I will burn like a fire,

Bringing death to the enemy.

I will raise like a wave.

Real life that has seen love.

This is the bud you’ve sent.

I will protect it until the day I die

Until it blooms.



North-Western Front,

6 November, 1942





LOVE OF THE MOTHERLAND



The radiant sun, combing its curly hair,

Is looking over the horizon in the morning.

People are staring at it

And the sun is our peer, it’s our age.

A star is shining with grace,

Happily flirting with the dawn.

Our Motherland, a sleepless guardian.

Its love is like a melody for the soul.

My happiness is shining like a sunbeam,

The homeland is looking at us with joy.

My love for the land is great

May the whole life and body be sacrificed.

Flamboyant young people are working hard

Hoping to conquer the whole universe.

It's all because of the love of the motherland,

Which wants us to be as precise as falcons!

And that’s the kind of life we have

Day after day moving forward.

Giving wings to the inspiration

My country showers us with flowers!



Jizzakh, 1937

MY MOTHERLAND



With confidence instilled in my heart

Motherland is my garden, my peace of mind,

That has made my life like honey.

You are my mountain of happiness, my pride.

I’m proud of you, my dear country

You are my inspiration and joy.

You have brightened my face

You are the light that shines in my eyes.

Be praised by the whole world

You are my honour and glory!



You gave life and consciousness

You are my happiness, my beauty.

A great dream is awaking.

You are my lucky moon.

Let the food be plentiful

You are my spring water.

You are my beautiful blossoming bud

Who gave beauty to the moon and the sun

You are my fiery inspiration and my mind!



My flowering land, my sunny land

Years pass like the early spring.

You are my blooming garden, a majestic mountain,

Where basil and dill are growing.

Life is filled with joy,

Peoples live in the world.

Songs about the pleasures of life

That souls are happily singing.

Inspiration in the soul, my homeland,

You are my song, my bright morning!



Samarkand, February 12, 1940