Paroles et traduction Ozodbek Nazarbekov - Eshigingda (Live)

Eshigingda (Live)

Man nola qilay shomu sahar dod, eshigingda,
Jonimni beray, sho'xi parizod, eshigingda.

Ul lolayu rayhonu suman, toza qizil gul,
Ham sarv bukuldi, qaddi shamshod eshigingda.

Zulfing sani bu jonima yuz domi bo'ladur,
Jonim qushi sayd o'ldi chun sayyod eshigingda.

Man nola qilay shomu sahar dod, eshigingda,
Jonimni beray, sho'xi parizod, eshigingda.

Olam borisi lazzati husningni topibdur,
Giryonu fig'on, nolayu faryod eshigingda.

Man nola qilay shomu sahar dod, eshigingda,
Jonimni beray, sho'xi parizod, eshigingda.

Savdoyi muhabbatga tushubman sani izlab,
O'ldirdi g'aming, ko'zlari jallod, eshigingda.

Ashkim to'kubon hajru g'amingda kecha-kunduz,
Vayrona vatan - manzili obod eshigingda.

Man nola qilay shomu sahar dod, eshigingda,
Jonimni beray, sho'xi parizod, eshigingda.

Ul husnu jamoling o'ti Mashrabga tushubdur,
Parvonasifat kuydi, parizod, eshigingda.

Man nola qilay shomu sahar dod, eshigingda,
Jonimni beray, sho'xi parizod, eshigingda.

At Your Doorstep (Live)

How can I not lament, evening and morning, at your doorstep,
My soul I offer, oh playful angel, at your doorstep.

They offer basil and hyacinth, pure crimson rose,
Even the cypress bows, its form like boxwood, at your doorstep.

Your tresses become a hundred snares for my soul,
My soul, a bird, is hunted down, for the hunter is at your doorstep.

How can I not lament, evening and morning, at your doorstep,
My soul I offer, oh playful angel, at your doorstep.

All the world's delights have found your beauty,
Grief and cries, laments and despair, at your doorstep.

How can I not lament, evening and morning, at your doorstep,
My soul I offer, oh playful angel, at your doorstep.

Fallen into the market of love, searching for you,
Your sorrow has slain me, your eyes like an executioner, at your doorstep.

Shedding tears, in separation and grief, day and night,
A ruined homeland - a prosperous abode at your doorstep.

How can I not lament, evening and morning, at your doorstep,
My soul I offer, oh playful angel, at your doorstep.

The fire of your beauty has touched Mashrab,
Like a moth, he burns, oh angel, at your doorstep.

How can I not lament, evening and morning, at your doorstep,
My soul I offer, oh playful angel, at your doorstep.