Paroles et traduction Sardor Mamadaliyev - Vatan

Vatan

Osmon oyu yulduz, quyosh ham kerak,
Zarurati bordir tog'u toshgacha.
Biroq men bilganim qalbda bir bezak,
Tuproq yo'lda qolgan izlar boshqacha. {}
Vatan degani shu bir hovuch tuproq,
Vatan degani bu – yurakda titroq.
Vatan degani shu bir hovuch tuproq,
Vatan degani bu – yurakda titroq.
Kim qanday anglaydi, qanday tushunar,
Tuproq iforiga to'la tonglarim,
Balki, shundan halol, shundan xokisor,
Mening ona xalqim, bug'doy ranglarim. {}
Bolaligim mening – asov qulun,
Oyog'i shilingan toshga urinib.
Onam chang ko'chaga qo'yiblar qo'lin,
Tuproqni malham deb, bosgan egilib. {}
Ota buyuk zotdir, suyanchdir menga,
El doim ishonar oqillariga.
Ul zot asling xokdir, deya o'rgatar,
Ishongum purhikmat naqllariga.
Vatan degani shu bir hovuch tuproq,
Vatan degani bu – yurakda titroq.
Vatan degani shu bir hovuch tuproq,
Vatan degani bu – yurakda titroq.
Kim qanday anglaydi, qanday tushunar,
Tuproq iforiga to'la tonglarim,
Balki, shundan halol, shundan xokisor,
Mening ona xalqim, bug'doy ranglarim. {}
Mening o'zbek xalqim, bug'doy ranglarim.

Motherland

The sky needs stars, the sun, and even mountains and stones,
Everything is necessary, down to the smallest detail.
But my heart holds the greatest treasure,
The traces left on the dusty roads are different. {}
The Motherland is but a handful of soil,
The Motherland is a quivering in the heart.
The Motherland is but a handful of soil,
The Motherland is a quivering in the heart.
Everyone understands it, interprets it differently,
My dawns are filled with earthly scents,
Perhaps this is why I am honest, humble,
My people, the color of wheat grains. {}
My childhood is a straw horse,
Its legs stumbled upon a stone.
My mother put her hands out to the dusty street,
Bowing to use the soil as a balm. {}
My father is a great man, my support,
The people always trust their wise ones.
He teaches me that man is made of earth,
I believe in the wisdom of his words.
The Motherland is but a handful of soil,
The Motherland is a quivering in the heart.
The Motherland is but a handful of soil,
The Motherland is a quivering in the heart.
Everyone understands it, interprets it differently,
My dawns are filled with earthly scents,
Perhaps this is why I am honest, humble,
My people, the color of wheat grains. {}
My Uzbek people, the color of wheat grains.