Khorezm branch of uzbekistan writers union



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15 
KHAKKUSH 
Translated by Abdiev Xudashukur, Nodira Azatova 
 
My friends: ―Y
ou are depressed, let‟s make a holiday
‖-, told and brought 
me to the mountains.
A long time we conversed with each other about our past. Interestingly, 
whenever I see puffed-up mountains, rocks like Cleopatra‘s needle I think about 
the life which is not eternal. Those height rocks that couldn‘t move anywhere 
and were like midnight black shadow in the dark had seen how many people 
like us…? Only they have no tongue… 
It was cold place where we dossed yesterday. I couldn‘t sleep for a long 
time. Poplars were rustling outside. The river flowed somewhere nearby. 
Suddenly I heard the plaintive sound: 
“Khak-ku, khak-ku…”
It seemed to be 
silent slightly then the same sound repeated in far distance: 
“Khak-ku, khak-
ku…” 
I was child, I was young. My mother told a quaint fable which was about 
brothers.
Allegedly, once upon a time there were two brothers. The eldest name was 
Ilhaq the other was Iskhaq. They were very bellicose and fought with each 
other. Their mother tormented a lot between them.
Herein almighty God became wrath and turn them into birds with blind 
eyes. Later, they realized that they were in need of each other. Only after that 
both of them could realize that they can‘t stand apart from each other alone and 
they are in need of one another. Ever since they have been weeping and calling 
for each other out, but they couldn‘t find yet 
The poplar leaves are still rustling outside. The river rumbles noisly. The 
distressed gloomy exclamation sounds out in that rumbled silence: 
“Ilhak…, Is-
hak…!”
My poor Mum! Were you so anxious to see united all of your five children 
pulling their heads out of the blanket at that time to listen to your distressful tale 
as swallow pupae?!
… Mothers always want to see their children together. But destiny scatters 
them here and there by providing wings to fly. Life is cruel to mothers in this 
parable as well. 


16 

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