In qahva's warmth, lahza unfolds,
Baxt whispers tales, flowers unfold.
Yozuvchi's pen dances with grace,
In kundalik's rhythm, life finds its pace.

Choy's aroma fills the air,
Book's gentle glow, beyond compare.
In the depths of inson's heart,
Kibr fades, love becomes the art.

But amid this beauty, dard may reside,
Yet through it all, hope's light won't hide.
For in every moment, a history's told,
In the tapestry of life, each thread, bold.