A mother is kind, patient, pure in heart, patient and kind, passionate, skillful, the charm of our home, the key to our paradise is embodied before our eyes. Dear Mother! No matter when you look at it, together with my father, every minute is precious to us. If any part of us hurts, the people who hurt more than us are our parents. How much do we feel it when it happens?
Mom, look, what’s going through your head? Because of our three sons. It is fitting that he slandered you (us). Is your heart so clean and pure? Thank you for going, Mother. Although I don’t always tell you that I love you, you are the main role in my poems and stories.
A teacher’s first lesson. The next lesson gave the students the task to bring “Paradise soil”. Most of the children were surprised, then the bell rang and the children left. The next day the class started, most of the children came with textbooks. Birr Boy brought soil together with textbooks. Seeing this, the children and the teacher were surprised.
The lesson has started. The teacher asked: Who did the homework? Many are sitting quietly. Then the boy who brought the soil said I did it. He said, “Bring the soil of Paradise.” Where did you get this soil? After all, the earth is filled with the soil of Heaven. Everyone is quiet. The boy said: Teacher, I brought the dirt of my mother’s footprints.
After all, isn’t the soil that my mother stepped on the foot of Heaven? Then everyone had tears in their eyes. It is not for nothing that our wise people say that “Paradise is under the feet of mothers”. As a young man from a remote village, I came to the capital for the first time together with my teacher Barno Mirzayeva. Feruza Adilova, the editor-in-chief of the newspaper “Tong syzni” personally welcomed us. For me, this is pride and pride.
Years later, I told the teacher to himself, did you meet us yourself? This was the teacher’s answer. After all, I am also a Mother. Every time I come to the capital, I go to my teacher, who has become kind like my mother.
Barno Mirzayeva is also kind, passionate and demanding like my mother. We will also have a pleasant conversation with the teacher, and when the time comes, we will share secrets and talk to each other.
My dear, dear Son, my mother! We, your children, your beloved husband Sirojiddin, wait until the world comes to an end. I prepared salads for weddings, made blankets, cut and sewed them, and for the winter “Coat” that my grandfather brought me, I earned a living by driving a taxi, a suit-trousers, a white shirt, a tie, etc. Insha’Allah grant you a ticket for Hajj and a crown of honor in Jannat in return for the things you have brought, so that my child does not lack.
May all our mothers always be healthy. Dear mothers and sisters, I sincerely congratulate you on the coming holidays. I will always open like a spring and pray that the smile will not disappear from your faces.
He made mean, slanderous slanders,
Maybe he ate pand and regretted it.
A grandchild filled your skirt.
Thanks to the truth, the faces became white,
Protect yourself for us Mother
Three boys, every time you fly.
Beside you, faithful, beloved,
One day you will get your due.
Faithful Mother, you will go to the Kaaba again,
Yoring, three sons will fly.
I need you more than the earthly world, Mother,
Three boys, every time you fly.
Salahiddinjon Sayfiyev
Alfraganus University
A student of the Uzbek language and literature department of the Faculty of Philology.
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