Azimova: Words of poet instill nostalgia

I vividly remember my fifth birthday. My entire family had gathered to celebrate my special day. It was a marvelous event, and everyone was very happy, especially me. I get nostalgic about that time of my life because my whole family was together. Things aren't the same anymore, dynamics have changed and my melancholy has grown stronger. Every now and then when I remember my fifth birthday, I miss home terribly.
My homeland, Tajikistan, is the place where I was born. The place where I learned how to walk, talk, laugh, cry and sing. How can one get a closure of a place without going there? Looking at the pictures is never enough. The best way for me is reading one of my favorite poets, Omar Khayyam.
Omar Khayyam was born in northeast Iran. He is a notable poet, philosopher, mathematician and astronomer. All the Persian-speaking countries consider him to be theirs. Hence, I'm from a Persian-speaking country, and I always have thought of him to be our honorable poet. Besides, every time I read his rubaiyat, I feel home, I get my closure with Tajikistan.
There can be many reasons for my connection with Omar Khayyam. When I was in high school, a day wouldn't go by without me reading at least one rubaiyat by Khayyam after I discovered him. It was one of those days where nothing interested me, and I started to wander in my dad's library. Well, the library soon became mine because I was fascinated by the full shelves of books. The shelves were a dark wood stain and towered above me. All the authors' names I read were enchanting: Leo Tolstoy, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Alexander Sergyevich Pushkin, Alexander Blok, Sergei Esenin, Charles Dickens, Victor Hugo, William Shakespeare, Honore de Balzac, Jack London, Jaloliddin Rumi, Djami, and of course, Omar Khayyam.
I admire his poetry. Khayyam truly captures life and makes me want to live fully. Even though he's mostly famous for carrying a theme of love for wine and women, those very pieces deliberate on society as a whole.
Here is a little taste of Khayyam: "Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,/Before we too into the Dust Descend;/Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie,/Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer and--sans End!"(Omar Khayyam Translated by Edward Fitzgerald)
My personal interpretation: these lines are screaming to enjoy life and to take the most out of it. These lines are thirsting for someone to read and to understand that everything eventually comes to an end and there is no time to waste.
Khayyam's lines bring me closer to home every time I read them. I feel like he is a piece of my country I brought with me. It helps me feel nearer to Tajikistan and my family. When I was leaving Tajikistan to come here, I never thought I would be longing so badly for the old days. Yet, as gold Olympic medalist Doug Larson said: "Nostalgia is a file that removes the rough edges from the good old days."
Despite of all the advantages America provides, I still hunger for home where less is always more. Every street you walk in, every face you see speaks to you without words, because home is where you understand one another by heart and nothing else is needed.
Ganjina Azimova is a senior English major. Reach her at ganjinaazimova@dailynebraskan.com