Vayisova Dilnurabonu Nabijon kizi
Mom, your hair is white.
Why are your eyes a little red?
Mother, pain and sorrow have made you old,
Maybe your daughter’s fate will be a little difficult.
I count endless wrinkles on your face,
Maybe it’s worth your effort.
I see you can’t walk
You are proud to still believe.
You always called me my child, you ran,
Look at your hair turned into thorn,
The package of your hands brought tears to my eyes,
Your daughter has made you old, mother.
Day by day, your life turns into chaos,
You carry the truth on your shoulders.
Throwing away the flower of time
So, live now, you, for yourself.
Vayisova Dilnurabonu Nabijon kizi
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