Mirzo Tursunzade

A mother's hands

Able hands of the woman who tended our fire,
Whose sweet breath warmed the earth that it, too, might respire,
Skilful hands of that woman, a garden you tilled,
So the air with aromas of orchards was filled,
The strong hands of the woman who raised up a roof
And who lent to our childhood her beauty and truth,
Loyal hands of the woman, to freedom's cause true,
Great affairs of our state are entrusted to you,
Working hands of the woman who came to the field
And enriched the good soil, multiplying its yield,
Soothing hands of the woman who stilled a babe's cries
Thro' the long restless night, never shutting her eyes,
Gentle hands of the woman, as sweet as a song,
Singing lullabies tenderly all the night long,
Lavish hands of that woman held us to her breast,
She gave us warm milk and she guarded our rest,
Guiding hands of the woman, by whom we were fed.
Pointed out the right pathway that you, too. should tread,
Tender hands of the woman our bitter tears dried
And would sooth and console us whenever we cried,
Heady hands of the woman with patience and care,
Brushed and sewed a boy's clothes, ran the comb through his hair.
Youthful hands of the bride, who like dawn seemed to glow,
Held the one whom she loved on a night long ago.
You two motherly hands, the most lovely and dear,
Rise and rest on our head, tho' we leave do not fear.
Future glorious deeds will be balm to the heart,
So come, bless us, your children, before we depart.
1963