You get used to physical pain: you synchronise your breathing to its throbbing waves, you are ready for the waves to surge up and you can wait for the waves to die down. But the pains of humiliation are unbearable, and it is impossible to endure the suffering caused by your own helplessness. At first Abdulla attributed Vinokurov’s brutality to the fact that he was a Russian, but he then recalled that among the men who searched his house there had been an interrogator who spoke Uzbek like a Tatar, replacing all his ‘j’s with ‘y’s.

Лўққиллаган оғриққа ҳам кўникса бўларкан: нафасингни оғриқ тўлқинларига мослайсан-да, бу мавжнинг авжини атайин кутасан, лекин адолатсизлик аламига чидаб бўлмайди, кучсизлик азобига бардош бериш қийин. Абдулла аввалига анавининг бағритошлигинию юрагини анор қилиб эзган бу оғриқни унинг ўрислигига йўйди, бироқ уйидан чиқаверишида афтидан андироқ татар терговчининг “ий”лаганроқ талаффузидаги гаплари эсига тушди: “Сини биз билябиз. Уртақларинг барлиғини бизгя йеткургянляр...”

The next day Husayn was crowned Emir, but he did not hold power for long; a mysterious illness forced him off the throne in less than three months. The doctors failed to conjure one of their miracles, and Emir Husayn left this world of sorrows. When Nasrullo heard what had happened, his thoughts turned to his master chef, who he had only recently sent to serve his brother Husayn as a peace-offering: ‘Seems the bastard took his arsenic with him’. Then he gathered his army and set off for Bukhara once again.

Эртасига Ҳусайн-тўрани Амир қилиб тахтга кўтаришди, бироқ тахтни эгаллаганидан сал ўтмай, Амир Ҳусайн бир номаълум касалга чалиниб, масиҳонафас табибларнинг муолажа уринишлари зое кетиб, салтанати уч ойга етар-етмас дунё омонатини қўлдан бой берди. Насруллоҳхон баковулини ҳадъя тариқасида саройга юборган эди, “Маргимушини ҳам ўзи билан олиб кетибди-йўв бу аблаҳ!” - деб ўйлади ўзича у, яна черигини Бухоро томон тортар экан...

The tea was left undrunk. His hands trembling with excitement, his breath quickening, Qosim picked up the ladder which lay near the vineyard and placed it against a strong supporting pillar. ‘If you hold it from this side, I’ll have the branches tied to the crossbeams in no time,’ he said.

Чой ҳам бир чекада қолиб кетди, Сайид Қосим-йигитча, қўлу-нафаси титраганича, ишком тагида ётган нарвонни турғизиб, ишкомнинг пухтароқ бир ходасига тирадию:
- Мана бу тарафдан ушлаб турсангиз, мен дарровгина токни тараб ташлай, - деди.

The road passed through foothills, then mountains, following the course of a rushing stream. Sitting up front to drive the horses, Qosim broke the silence, speaking as if to himself:
‘How fresh the mountain breeze is!’ It could have been a question, or an exclamation by someone whose soul was brimming over with emotion.
Since the road they were travelling along was deserted, Oyxon removed her horse-hair veil, and, weary of the prolonged silence, responded: ‘Yes, the spring air is special, it’s different somehow…’
 

Икки томон адиру-тоғ, сой ёқалаб кетишар экан, Сайид Қосим-йигит от ҳайдаб ўтирган еридан орқага ўгирилмай ўзига сўзлагандек:
- Тоғ шаббодаси яхши-да! – деб сўрадими, ё, жўнгина, тўлиб кетган кўнглини бўшатдими, унга хомушликдан сиқилиб кетгану кимсасиз ялангликда чимматини юзидан олган Ойхон-пошша ҳам:
- Айниқса кўклам шаббодаси ўзгача, - деб жавоб берди.