It was dark when the car came to a sudden halt and Abdulla lost the thread of his thoughts. They must have arrived at the prison. What had he been thinking about? Oh yes, the five bright-red oranges he hadn’t been able to give his children, now left in a house where the lights were out. When he was still very young, he’d written a story called ‘Devils’ Dance’ about something terrible that had happened to his father. Could Abdulla have been taken captive by devils, as his father was?

Шу пайт ичи қоронғи машина таққа тўҳтаб, Абдулланинг хаёлини узди. Манзилига етиб келишибди-да... Нималарни ўйлаётган эди боягинда. Ҳа, қандили ўчган уйдаги болаларига улашилмаган бешта қуёшранг норинж ҳақида... Аттанг-а! Йўқ, навқирон ёшлигида ёзган бир ҳикояси бўлгич эди. Отасининг бир ваҳимали саргузашти ҳақида. “Жинлар базми” деган... Отасига ўхшаб Абдулланиям жин босдими?

‘Hold on, Vinokurov,’ said one of the men who had searched Abdulla’s house. ‘Watch you don’t finish him straight away, we’ve only just brought him in! I’ve still got to interrogate the son of a bitch.’ This man, evidently in charge, wished Vinokurov a Happy New Year before he left, presumably to celebrate with his own family.

“Қўй, Винокуров, - деб аралашгандек бўлди уйда тинтув қилганлардан бири, - келиши биланоқ ўлдириб юборма! Ҳали бу ифлосни сўроқ қилишим керак! Пока же в одиночку!” - деб буйруқ берди-да, анави онағар Винокуровни Янги йили билан табриклаб, ўзи уйга, оиласи билан байрамни кутгани кетишини айтдию маҳбусни Винокуров қарамоғида қолдирди.

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...

Thoughts have strange paths. Where had all this come from? The injuries to his body, Vinokurov’s threats, the immortal Georgian Leader? After all, Abdulla had been thinking only about his children, left to weep on New Year’s eve.

Хаёл йўллари ажиб. Қаердан келди буниси, танадаги жароҳатлариданми, ё анави Винокуровнинг дағдағасиданми? Ё балки лоямут гуржи пошшони эслаганиданми? Ахир Янги йил кечаси чирқиллаб қолган болаларини ўйлаётган эдию Абдулла.

It was now New Year. Happy New Year to you, Abdulla! You said that if you could sit down for one winter, you would finish your novel. Clearly, you didn’t say inshallah at the time. But you had sensed the danger. Writers as well-known as you had already been arrested – Fitrat and Cho’lpon, G’ozi Yunus and Anqaboy – hadn’t they? Were you really likely to be left alone? When you tell a horse to ‘Chuh’, you have given it a bit more rope. He can go on writing for a bit, they would have thought, we’ll squash him when the time is ripe.

Янги йил ҳам кирибди. Янги йилингиз муборакбод, Абдулла! Бир қиш ўтирсам қиссамни ёзиб битираман, - деган эдингиз. Худо хоҳласа демаган экансиз-да ўшанда. Кўнглингизда бор эдию бу хатар, ахир Фитрату Чўлпон, Вадуд Маҳмуду Ғози Юнус, Анқабою Элбекни олиб кетган жойда сизни тинч қўйишармиди?! “Чўҳ”- деса кетадиган от экансиз, арқонингизни узунроқ ташлаб қўйишган экан-да, “Қани ёзиб турсинчи, роса қизиғида босамиз”, - дейишган эканми.

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.

Whether because Nozim had let slip the secret after all, or because G’ozi- xo’ja had spoken to his relatives in Eski-Novqat in the course of his brief pilgrimage, Qosim left for home as soon as he was able to. In the afternoon, G’ozi-xo’ja summoned his eldest daughter, intending to disclose his heart’s secret desire: to do so, he went back all the way to Adam and Eve, alluding to every Old Testament story there was.

Айёру қувча Сайид Нозимхон дадаларига сотиб қўйдими, ё Саҳобадан қайтаётгач, Эски-Новқатдаги қариндошлари билан хабарлашган Сайид Ғози-хожа маслаҳатини пишириб келдими, баҳарҳол боғу-роғ ишларини битирган Сайид Қосим-йигит буларнинг кўнгилларини ярим қилиб, уйига кетганида, ота тўнғич қизини пешгоҳда ўз олдига чақирди-да, гапни Одам Атою Момо Ҳаводан бошлаб, аста-секин кўнгилларидаги муддаоларини изҳорладилар:

Let the morning breeze hear my plea 
Let the morning breeze hear my plea
Her eyes bright as Venus, her hair wild and free 
The grace of a cypress, brows black as can be!
Let my prayers be heard by this shimmering beauty. 
She vanished from me like some mischievous fairy 
And left me to live with nothing but misery.
We made to each other an unbreakable vow
So if one of us breaks it, it’s in God’s hands now.

Арзимни айтай боди сабога...
Арзимни айтай боди сабога.
Кўзлари Чўлпон, зулфи паришон,
Сарви хиромон, дод-ей, қоши қарога.
Биздан дуолар бўлсин Ул дилрабога...
Учди кўзимдин ул пари янглиғ,
Ташлади кетти, дод-ей, турли балога...
Қилдик икковлон бир аҳду-паймон
Ҳар ким ёмондур, ёрай, солдим худога...