Minhojiddin Mirzo (Khojimatov) – Uzbekistan
Minhojiddin Mirzo (Khojimatov) was born in the city of Andijan of the Republic of Uzbekistan. Graduated from the Faculty of Journalism of the Tashkent State University (now the National University of Uzbekistan). Member of the Union of Writers of Uzbekistan. Author of the books “Lotus”, “Messenger of the Meeting”, “My Star”, “Buds of my Heart”, “The time has come for flowering, my gardens”, “In the face of love”, “The Great Emir”, “The Flower of Sorrow”, “Mighty Power leading to happiness” and others.
The poems of Minhojiddin Mirzo have been translated into Russian, Tajik, English, Korean, Kyrgyz and Karakalpak languages. He translated into Uzbek poems by Japanese, Russian, Belarusian and Arab poets.
He worked as a consultant in the Office of the President of the Republic of Uzbekistan, First Deputy Chairman of the Union of Writers of Uzbekistan, Chief Editor of the Star of the East magazine, served as First Deputy Chairman of the National Television and Radio Company of Uzbekistan, Head of the Press Service of the President of the Republic of Uzbekistan, First Deputy Minister of Culture of Uzbekistan. He actively participated in literary conferences in the CIS countries and made a worthy contribution to the popularization of Uzbek literature and the strengthening of literary ties. Currently, he heads the Republican Center for Spirituality and Enlightenment. He is a member of the Senate of the Oliy Majlis of the Republic of Uzbekistan.
For great achievements in the development of literature and culture of Uzbekistan, Minhojiddin Mirzo was awarded the Shuhrat medal and the honorary title of Honored Journalist of the Republic of Uzbekistan.
DON’T WHISPER, WIND
Don’t whisper disturbing my thought,
Don’t drop wine into my lips,
Down my soul will just fall,
Don’t whisper to me wind.
Your breath I likened much,
To the breath dear to for age.
Stop, you’ll make my soul fly out,
I’ve hardly put it into its cage…
Don’t whisper to me wind,
Don’t trouble soul leaves,
Bear my soul would not
The troubles of this heart.
Don’t smooth my hair, be off,
Endure love I can’t any more,
Leave me, forget me at all,
Separation my heart is a gift for.
Don’t whisper to me, wind,
Why pour oil on last fire?
Leave now to myself alone,
Say I my grieve, you will catch fire…
Don’t whisper to me, wind…