Ubaidullo Sanginov was born in 1975 in the city of Vahdat of the Republic of Tajikistan.  He is a poet and translator of poetry. His poems are about Love, Peace, Friendship, Humanity

      Through Internet media, he found many friends from different countries of the world and organized the multilingual magazine "Friendship of Peoples", now he is the editor and designer of this magazine.

      Ubaidullo Sanginov graduated from Pedagogical University named after Sadriddin Aini and has been working as a mathematics teacher in high school for many years.

      The poet was awarded the title of Doctor of Peace Sciences by several organizations.

Ubaidullo Sanginov's poems have been translated into many languages ​​of the world. Published in many anthologies and international journals.  on behalf of the Autonomous Republic of Dagestan (Russia) highly appreciated the services of the poet and awarded him with the award named after Sulaymon Stalsky.

My Imagination

My imagination carried your memories before my eyes,

They turned into a tale—one I softly read inside.

That time has passed, that tender glance has faded too,

That playful look of yours—my world remains with you.

My imagination draws your memories time and again,

Night turns into day, yet my thoughts reach you again.

There was a time—how sweet—with eyes so full of light,

Among all charming gazes, yours alone shines bright.

My imagination paints your image on the veil of my sight,

So vivid, as if in a hundred colors, glowing bright.

A thousand shades appear, a thousand wonders unfold,

A thousand pains in hearts, in my soul stories untold.

My imagination lifts your memories to the endless sky,

Giving wings to my flight—like a broken bird to fly.

Lament of the Innocent

Alas, you were shattered—fragments of blood,

O tender saplings, fallen in flood.

Victims of terror, taken too soon,

O tulips—red tulips, drenched in your wound.

A hundred scars were sown in the land,

Children lay fallen in blood-soaked sand.

Alas for the lives cut short in their bloom,

O buds uprooted, lost to the gloom.

O little children, purest of souls,

With you were buried your dreams and your goals.

A thousand wishes you held in your chest,

All turned to dust in a single breath.

A thousand dreams lie under the clay,

O seekers of knowledge, taken away.

O blameless, spotless, پاک and bright,

O slain in honor, robbed of your light.

Time Passing 

We remained as if halfway, saying: “Oh, time has passed,”

None perceived it, none let out a deep sigh—yet time has passed.

Even if you made a thousand wise clocks in this world,

Why, before reaching halfway, has time already passed?

The fields, untouched by the rain of love, have turned dark,

Fields left behind like a single yellow straw—time has passed.

I burned in the wind of longing; it gave not even a glance,

I burned like the already-burnt, deeply dark—time has passed.

The scattered fragments of earth have gathered once again,

Those fragments that faded in every gaze—time has passed.

The ship of life sank deep into the ocean of love,

The thirsty lovers, as if at the bottom of a well—time has passed.

All those boats drowned by the wine of death’s hand,

Whether sinful or sinless, all—time has passed.

The dove of my mind sang much for the meadow of love,

But the tulip garden of life turned into bitter weeds—time has passed.

Hundreds of thousands of the heart’s desires longed for union,

I burned in memory of yesterday and tomorrow—time has passed.

Ubaidullo Sanginov