Gazels of Alisher Navoiy
RED, YELLOW, GREEN,
In ancient times the Turkish people desc the four parts of the world with four coloss North in black color. the West in yellow (white) color The East consisting of ever fields and deserts was always described with g color. The green East with full of hum and views was also called the cradle of world ture, since in this land such great personalities as Abu Ali Ibn Sino (Avitcino), Al Farably, Mi Ulugbek were born. One of the wellknown sons the East was Alisher Navoiy. It is not an easy job to speak simply about this person who was a mater of beautiful words, decription of tender feelings Most of the scholars used to compare hiss to the bright star shining in the East's sky. Thanks to their deep content and wealthy literary descriptions the rich literary heritage of the great Uzbek po and thinker Alisher Navoly occupies au important place in the treasury of world literature.
The leading theme of his works is man, his inner world and attitude to the existence. In ha works the poet depicts the world with its divers colors, that is, beginning from a tiny element to the endless sky. The poet leads his ideas through the prism of human thinking, man's interaction with the outside world.
Alisher Navoiy is the founder of the Uzbek literary Language and founder father of the Uzbek classic literature, since he was the first to create literary works in the Uzbek language. His contem- poraries had used to write their poems in the Farsy (Persian) language and had thought that it would sible to write beautiful poems tu Uzbek he tractat Muhokamatul luggatayin the poet sed the Uzbek language from the attack of writers who looked down on Uzbek and had beautiful poems, Zanhriddin Muhammad gabor, Mabur, Ogohiy, Muqimiy, Furqat Za gir, Nodirabegim, Uvaysiy, Mahzuna and other po ets are followers of Navoiy Excited by the works of Alisher Navoiy and having read and learnt them their own works
Now, I would like to tell a few words about they created gel (a form of poem in the East). Gazel is one of the widely spread type of poem in the East. Mainly it is composed of 12-14 lines and rhyme as a-a, b aca, da. Each couple of lines of gazel have completed meaning.
For example, if the first line of gazel consists of twelve open and close syllables (open syllable ends with a vowel, close syllable with a conso ant). All other lines must end in the same way. The readers of the West may think Why does
Navoiy deserve such great respect? First, he is respected for being a favorite poet, scholar and statesman, second, for love of people, he fought not only with his witty words, with his deeds against scholastics, oppression, bloody struggles for the throne, he devoted himself completely to the path of justice and well being of the people. On his own account the poet had built educational institu tions, medrasas (schools) libraries and hospitals, since he had accumulated in himself the best fea tures of our ancestors. In one of his wise sayings the poet states:
Man is not said a man, Of man if cares none>.
di Iskandariy (Eple poeen when Alex Great). Hansa consists of 5000 lines of pectoris The et's work in Persian (Farsi) is composed of gazels which constate 10408 lines
Among the Turkish pepoles Allsher Navng the most popular and respected poet. His were compared to a huge ocean. The bottom of ocean is full of pearls and diamonds Beder poetic works Navoiy created a number of senes During the Soviet times only one while of the creations of Alisher Navoiy had been studied Wh being published his works which contain gious words and words about shariat (religious had been cut off outrageously. In their sele works some scholars treated Navoiy as an athe and even as a communist In order to prove th words they cited some examples from Navoly whe he ridiculed religious people, priests, shaykhs wh used religion as a means of obtaining wealth. Yet, there are such lines in his poems. But if we study them very attentively it becomes quite clear that these lines are about those religious people who speak on benalf of Allah, and only think of how to fill their own stomach. It is impossible to imagine Navoly's time with out religion. One should know that it was the time when religion, shariat developed highly. That's why those who want to understand rightly the works of the poet must know well the Islamic religion and the surahs (articles) of Glorious Quran. No doubt, Alisher Navoiy was an ordinary muslim. In his gazels we encounter very often the name of Islam Prophet Muhammad Mustafo, the name of the Nas- ronic messenger Iso Mose.
The word Muslim is a complete devotion of
elf to Allah a man does not believe i Alak, his angels, his books and the mangers of Male, he is not considered a true muslin By A all this I would not mean that Navoiy is a true velous poet like Ahmad Yassaviy who called for jection from the secular world. But on the con mary, the ax vessel which runs through all his works is the idea to call for humanum, for lo stance, love for motherland, people, for peace, friend ship and solidarity among nations.
The main heroes of the works of Alisher Navaly are represented by Usbeks. Hinds, Chines, Arabs, Armenians, and by other peoples. This testifies to the fact that the works of the poet are of interna tional importance, and he himself is the supporter of peaceful and friendly life of all peoples and
At the beginning of the article it was stated that the Turkish national described the parts of the world with differen colors, Pay Attention Hey Natoly do not worry of yellow, red and green, Your gazels late grown into red, yellow, gree
Using the different colors of his gazel that is to say, using markings of the world's parts as South. West, East which go in par with each other in one gazel of Navoly 1 would like to challenge for soli darity, unity of all nations.
Translated by K. Mamurov
Dreaming of your beauty has wasted me away
What an unfortunate day that was when telli love with you
How many times, day in and day out, did tell myself to forget
But alas, from day to day ever more and more
When I begged you to be true, you tormented
Hut when you told me to be faithful I always
You ask what beauty has made me carry on like one demented
O Lovely One, do what you will, I am yours forever you know no peace,
O my heart, I disregarded your advice and again
As though you didn't have enough troubles of our own I brought this down upon you
Since the holy water of Hize in Jamshid's goblet has decome my lot
I will renounce all rewards, posts and ranks to become your slave
Of the music produced by the lyre I have not found a melody of sadness
Like Navol, I have become your unhappy prisoner.
Small wonder she is beset by the tribulations of eighteen thousand worlds
For my playful beauty is a mere eighteen years old
I dare say her beauty will last her another eighteen years
Since her mind is in such turmoil and she mere eighteen years old...
Eighteen...? No, even when she grows to be eighteen hundred years old
Will she remain the queen among beauties and our doom lurks in her eyes
I marvel not at the beauty of her features for all that is so lovely in her Is the handiwork of that great artist the Lord Almighty
Her body is silvery white and conceals a heart that is stoney
This silvery moon holds forth the promiseof a han dred wonders to the reasoning mind.
Give me wine, innkeeper, for in the midst of all those wonders the Lord alone remains...
How strange that this sacred old temple world has fallen trothy to the bats.
If Navoiy has shed a sea of tears in yearning for his moon-like beauty
Look closer at them, you will see that every tear reflects her splendor- the sun…
LUTPIY
That is no tulip field but a world set af
That is no sunset the sky has cough it touches the It has been said the light of her viage
I heard and was ignited, fortuneless as w Those rays have incinerated the gallant of my pati
Recuding to ashes the caravan that they do
One flash of lightning and my eyes and my bo and wul were consumen
All was a sea of flame as though the reshes had been set ablass life of the flowe
Was it a whirlwind that matched and scattered the
Was it the treachury of the skies that gaited the tapering cypr
How I suffered that moment.
Did you invell you countenance to pusio You scorched them all and I, like a fool, was
When it is said the forests of Masandaran had Know,
Navoiy, I suffer unwittingly. cought fire,
Alas, hundred thousand times alas, Fur have
Without a sign of word of warning away we
She went as swiftly as an arrow thes, mindful of been abandoned by my beloved.
beloved my bowed dows frame
As though my faintheartedness had bees d by my beloved
Tis koown there is no love lost twixt princes and
Perhaps that is why I wan discarded in my lowtines by my beloved
This is my advice to you, my friends: Dot fall in love
I did, and the arrows of parting were my reward from way beloved
Should I weep that suffering and affliction are my
Or that my foe has been joined by my beloved?
Let those who weep with me this sad evening tell the tale of my woe
If they have found in this abode of sorrows a bright star-like beloved.
Know, Navoiy, it was your wanderings that cost you your sweatheart:
Take to the road at once for that has already been done by your beloved
Tring for ton who rely aperitas made It has struck me dumb so 3 mm tall to prec
Why wonder if people gossip showin
When the thought of her bed beg his we and beat my fin $would bever have given voice to my love but the
I was overpowered by wise and made witless by
My caring for the one I love has laid me low
And passion and suffering have cubed
One moment I am engulfed by fire and my body
Hashes lightning Thes the pain of separation wastes me so I look like a tood
My sites the world though I have always been a recluse:
is poouble that imagery and dreams have fallen to the lot of one so austere? Small wonder
Navely fled to the desert for succur
When the suffering that descedded on him made him akin to Majnu.
Yearning for one who is lovely as a peri has made It has struck me dumb so
I could tell no noe my predicament
Why wonder if people gossip about one who has lost touch with reality
When the thought of her arched brows has stooped and beat my form?
I would never have given voice to my love but that last night
I was overpowered by wine and made witless by werpiag
My craving for the one I love has laid me low
And passion and suffering have crushed me.
One moment I am engulfed by fire and my body flashes lightning
Then the pain of separation wastes me so
I look like a reed My groans have ignites the world though
I have always been a recluse.
Is it possible that imagery and dreams have fallen to the lot of one so austere?
Small wonder Navoiy fled to the desert for succor
When the suffering that descended on him made him akin to Majnun.
thave relinquished the world but the people have not spurned my soul.
I have forfeited my soul but my peple have not relinquished the right to my blood.
I am consumed by a fire that burns on all sides
Whenever my people shame and reject me....
My sorrow for her is gentle, in is so like a song
That my plaintive voice could lull my people to sleep every night
The dust of humiliation descended so thick people know each other not....
That happened in the brief moment they came to visit the ruins that were once me
I have from them a black talisman to keep me from going insane...
But little do they know that the blood of my people emblazoned on my heart. I desire,
O Hizr, to make a pilgrimage of the soul to Kaaba,
And to return before my people learn I have been away. Ali.
Navoly, the people will not blame or call me insane
When they read the description of that peri in the diwan I am compiling.
Is it time that has lent a blash to your cheeks,
Or is it the sun's rays that make them seem to be burning coals?
Is it hamber that burns in both your ears,
Is it that stars shine on either side of the moon?
Is your face sprayed with hundreds of dewdrops of perspiration
Or those pearls made of dew on the petals of at flower?
Just as a bad is surrounded by thorns,
Your traderness has driven a blade through my heart.
Was it my heart-abird that was caught in your locks.
Or was it bats of some kind? that unfortunate night,
nocturnal mist of your hair.
Or a flame that burst out of the smoke of my sighx?
Was it the glorious sun that consumed the
When I'm far away, does this beauty aid my
Or is that thought a potoned dart born of adversary. separation?
Perhaps those are new wounds on the shades of the soul
Or the sentence of death passed by the heavens?
If people say Navoiy himself has with pain rejected
Will you believe them? your love
Come, my dark eyed one, come, show your kids
Weawe a nest for yourself, in the depth of my
Turn the garden of my heart into a flowerbed, in the blossom that is your ta
And rest your slender form so like a sapling in the garden that is my beat
Splash the hooves of your brave steed run me he's blood
And weave a leash for your dog from the tendons of my sad soul
O Heaven, if at the foot of the mountain of separation my dust is discovered
Knead it into dough and sculpt from it a porwestel stone mason
wish to enrapture bearts in love by a meeting with you!
you
Curl your long hair into ringlets,
There is little the gardner can do to stop advanceof the Fall,
Should be even spike the roof of his garden with plne needles
O my friend, should I suddenly die at the sight of perspiration on your face,
Bathe me in rose water and lay me to rest in a shroud made of rose petals.
Navoij, if you can put your hearts all into a bouquet of joy,
Pick a sheaf of wheat and touching a flame to it let this candle be the revelation of the nosegay.
Your beauty shines brighter when you tresses fall free, breathing the scent of ambro
So the candle burns brighter when the treads of the wick have been loosen
Have you adorned your beaute with flowers for the sacrificial ite
Or has your beauty been enhanced by the blood
you were spattered with when you sacrificed w
My heart was mortally wounded by the spears of your eyelashes
But when you failed to destroy my heart you thought
to ameliorate it and plant it with seeds
Then did the Almighty disrobe this victim fallen to
love so early in life, And cast over me a shroud of brilliant hue...
When you inveiled your countenance to me. my eyes were drezed,
So dazed were they their tears were soaked up unseen by my grantful heart.
Having taught me to love you, though little you cared for such love,
You wrought devastation in my heart.
Remember, the sultan dooms to death even his
If he learns the latter has secretes away money from the treasury.
Speak, Navoiy, if love has not yet crippled your closest friend
Why do you spew blood whenever you sob?
The wind has showered the garden with flowers, has my fleetfooted sweetheart finally come?
A perfumed scent is wafted on the air, has the joy of my heart really come?
was ill but recovered to say just this:
Tell me, has my homeless wandered actually come?
The sick soul belongs in the public house,
As I entered I could not say has the time of my infirmity come?
Do not say you have come to slay me my beauties,
But tell my whether my pitiless assassin has come.
Do not say I am dying of longing and that the Messiah has come to my bedside,
But tell me if she who soothes the spirit has come
You heard the news that a suitor has made his appearance
But you did not say whether or not one long lost
has returned. Do not say I did not bring my heart to the street of renunciation,
Say, Navoj, has my naughty one who promiced so often really come?
Is it of her arched brows I should speak, or of the Is it of the cruelty of her eyes
I should speak, or the poison of her eyelashes?
or of the heartache of parting from her,
Or perhaps I should rather speak of the healing darkness of her eyes,
Or of the pain and the sorrow that both have caused my heart?
How should I speak of her radiant face in the midst of all this sorrow?
Should I speak of the pain her love has caused
balm of seeing her in the midst of my affliction?
Or should I speak of her flowing culs or of the words pronounced by her lips,
Or should I describe the fineness of the former and the tenderness of the latter? Or should I speak of the changes of her moods or of the slegnderness of her form, Or is it the crimson cape over her blue dress I should describe?
Or should I complain of the trials of fate or the torments of the world,
Or should I speak of the sufferings both have caused my heart?
Listen, Navoiy, do not sing praises to her eyes and her brows. Say rather:
Is it of her arched brows I should speak, or of the darkness of her eyes?
Our enamored heart is in hopeless straits
And has taken to wandering in the desert of reproaches.
Stone after stone is being showered on it Gashins wound upon waund on its body.
From beating its head on granite rocks Its frame has been shattered to smethereens.
When on lines crushed by mountains of sorrow
Even the silky fun spun by our imagination turns to thorns on granite
That which has turned my life into agony Is sure to blight her existence too.
The sun is the heart bleading sadness,
My tears like planets revolve around it.
Navoiy, speak not of hopelessness,
In your sorrow, hopelessness has engendered hope.
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