Jakhongir NOMOZOV
He was born on January 24, 1997 in Pop district of Namangan region. “Juntos por las Letras” Argentina is an active member and coordinator of the international working group of writers on Uzbekistan. The representative of the Turkish state “SIIR SARNICI” electronic magazine in Uzbekistan. A member of the International Association “World Talents” established in the Republic of Kazakhstan, the winner of the “Abay” medal, “Commemorative Badge of the International Amir Temur Charitable Fund” and “Pride of Science” awards. Member of the International Association of Artists, member of the Kyrgyz Poets and Writers Public Fund of the Kyrgyz Republic. Participant of the traditional workshop of young artists. He has been creating in the fields of poetry, journalism, and translation. His poems were published in the international “Mujde” and “Flashmab” anthologies. He is the author of the books “Rebels in My Heart”, “Sacred Space” and “Awakening Song”. 2022 in the Turkish publishing house “Baygenc”. The poetry book “Breath of the Sun” was published. Winner of many national and international competitions. Published in Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Turkmenistan, Azerbaijan, India, Turkey, Russia, Bangladesh, Nepal, Kenya, Algeria, Vietnam, Serbia, Macedonia, Belgium, China, Spain, Italy, Albania, American newspapers and magazines and literary sites. done Member of “World Talents” International Association, “Kyrgyz Public Fund of Poets and Writers”. He is a student of the University of Journalism and Mass Communications. Winner of the “Guzel Alania Award” of the Turkish state.
Uzbekistan correspondent of “Butov Azerbaycan” newspaper of Azerbaijan.
In 2023, a book of poems and articles called “Pain” was published on the American Amazon site.
***
Fire come out from eyes ,
Smoke come out from heart.
When l said God , head
Come out healthy from the mill.
From useless my strength ,
From unsmiling my smile.
When I shaked myself
A thousand year- silence come out.
From my flower field ,
From my heart field .
From sky I trusted,
A dark cloud come out.
People who sworn
Passed who forgiven
People who erased from heart
Everything come out forgotten.
Fire come out from eyes ,
Smoke come out from heart.
When l said God , head
Come out healthy from the mill.
FEAR
Time rushes by at a swift pace,
Each day my heart spins in a haunting chase…
Could such fleeting moments be called bliss?
Living in fear is a heavy abyss.
Each dawn I awaken, the mirror calls me near,
Reflecting my spirit, tormented by fear…
Panic crushes my insides, tightening its grip,
Death lurks nearby, in each breath I sip.
From fear my heart turns a shadowy hue,
My face, like a canvas, fades into blue…
Struggling to find strength to reclaim my soul,
I wonder, “Who am I?”—who’s in control?
I can’t return to the self I once knew,
This state lingers on, as if it were true.
Like a bird in a cage, I exist in despair,
As the whites of my eyes diminish in air…
***
In the bustling city, a tumultuous road,
Cars in a jam, their burdens bestowed.
Like autumn leaves, my heart feels the chill,
As time drifts away, it grows colder still…
What heavy longing hangs in the air,
From the cup of patience, emotions lay bare…
Though autumn’s joy may fade with the light,
November’s end seems a distant plight.
Nights stretch longer, shadows expand,
The sun’s warmth recedes, slipping from hand.
On lofty peaks, where the first snow will lay,
Winter’s signature marks the fading day.
The biting wind whispers through darkened lanes,
In the depths of night, where silence reigns…
As my poet’s heart weaves thoughts of the spring,
In dreams of renewal, hope takes to wing.
In Rental Homes
I’d rather not live in rental homes,
For some reason, breath feels confined.
In rental homes, freedom’s lost,
Inside, your voice will fade away.
There’s no charm there, no hint of peace,
The windows harshly pierce your mood.
Like stones of a fortress, frail and ceased,
A prisoner’s fate, with solitude subdued.
Rental homes’ spring lacks of blooms
Their festivals are strangers to delight.
Rental homes’ summer lacks the sun’s embrace,
In rental homes, freedom feels out of sight.
Why should I care, in what the world may dwell,
I keep my manners, though life’s harsh spell.
In a rental home, barely enough space,
I cannot fit my books, nor my inner grace.
Jakhongir NOMOZOV
