Bygone Days — a wondrous tale,
My friend and I once read as one,
Its mark of modesty and grace
In Kumushkhon we clearly saw drawn on.
Otabek’s courage, firm and true,
His pain engraved on endless roads,
Misunderstood, his noble heart
Bowed down beneath life’s heavy loads.
The borders of Margilan
Led him to that fairy bright,
Tashkent’s lion-hearted son
Found his fate within her sight.
A symbol of true love and faith,
Bygone Days stands firm and clear,
Affection, loyalty, and respect
Are woven through the story dear.
Navro’zova Zarina, Uzbekistan
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