(перевод с узбекского)
One early morning came some men,
High up the hill they saw a pipe
And plunged a knife into its stem.
It was in blossom, large and ripe.
It was deprived of eyes, at first,
A heart was taken out and
Internal organs then were burst,
A throat blown in the end.
O, poor pipe, it felt so hurt
And even frost was on the tongue.
A drawling wail that they heard
Was painfulness alike the song.
They made to suffer little cane,
Collecting sounds, after all
A pleasant music through its pain
They got and were delighted all.
Най
Яшнарди у адирга дуркун,
Эпкинларга очганча кучок.
Келдилару одамлар бир кун
Танасига санчдилар пичок.
Айирдилар аввал кузидан,
Сунг багрини олдилар уйиб:
Етмагандай бу хам бугзидан
Пуфладилар лабларин куйиб.
Курмаганди бунчалар хурлик
Хатто аёз тилганда юзин.
Аламига чидолмай шурлик,
Нола тортиб юборди узун.
Одамлар-чи, тупланди шу он
Фарёдига килолмай токкат.
Бир камишни йиглатиб чунон
Сунг узлари килдилар рохат.
(Абдулла Арипов)