Burakaeva Maryam Biography

Burakaeva Maryam. Patchwork cover.

Translation from Bashkirski Z. Burakaeva Burakaeva Maryam Sabiryanovna was born on March 27 of the year. In the year she graduated from the Faculty of Philology of Bashkir State University. Since the year, he worked as an employee of the Bashkir branch of institutes of national problems of education of the Ministry of Education of the Russian Federation, from the year - in the newspaper Kiska Ufa.

Laureate of the award named after Rami Garipova, prizes named after The Bisish tailor was known not only in the native village, but also far beyond its borders. Young women and brides for giving, and only starting flirting with the guys, teenage girls, heard about her skill. Burakaeva Maryam Sabiryanovna was born on March 27 of the year. The patchwork cover of the dressmaker Farzia was known not only in the native village, but also far beyond its borders.

All day the door hinges creaked in her house, singing a quick -made melody. We will do everything that we need to do, if only your hands were free. ” District fashionistas are ready for any work, although at the very night they are at the very night, also children who need to be supervised, but who else, except Farsia will understand, what a style you need, who will hide the dress in the figure so that it will become the most beloved in the simple wardrobe of the beauty!

Today, village grandmothers gathered for gatherings - Farcia convened everyone. They sipped tea from a saucer, they remembered youth. Eh, and you won’t understand whether life was a swift stream or a frisky wind in a dream, it was or in reality seemed to be full of desire to live, raised their economy, competed with each other in skill and zeal. Freshly -shaped honey exuded the aroma of linden, the table was bursting with August berries, pies and cakes.

Farzia, meanwhile, took out a patchwork shelter her. The magic of this bedspread was that his shred was someone's story, and the whole bedspread as a whole-the history of the that left the village. That the works of local local historians and programs on TV! The patchwork story was much more alive and true! Many learned their shreds, all the cover hit the living!

In the village, her name was the beauty of Hatir. She said - and then, out of habit, she adjusted her scarf, moving him back. I would have hung up on my three legs right there. He erupt - like Olkhov’s firewood. I would have risen - but how to hit the cruttle on the pillar of the gate: they say they, girlfriends, you can’t chew, but you can’t chew on bread, but all the same - the ex -mistresses of the former to grind, he would allow you to enter them, how could I not be jealous of Irgali?

Didn't he cut the apple tree behind your house? It seemed that someone was knocking on your window, ”Guliuhar jokingly joined the conversation. But he did not allow anyone to gossip about me, and he himself did not offend. And the fact that he was slightly jealous is trifles. Your Tikhushnik Saigafar, he also led his shoulders when he was angry. And I didn’t let you go one for a long time.

Immediately was next. I myself did not really go to the guests. The house is full of children, time, as always, is not enough. Only to Farzia and you run away, on business or to be chosen. Nevertheless, from one village, and through the husbands, they were related,-the voice of Guliuhar for some reason trembled. But she, as usual, restrained herself: she gritted her lips, as if she had detained extra words.

Indeed, all in motion, all in the concerns, and she doesn’t lose heart, laughs, chirping about her, sparkles with pearl teeth, but the older she became, the more she closed, often sad, and completely went into her senses after Saigafar's death. I would have touched he said and pulled the coverlet a little over, smoothed her knees and carefully stroked his shreds in the middle of the middle.

As if imperceptibly for others, revived her most expensive memories. Sleeves with a flashlight, in the waist is narrowed. And when I was spinning in the dance, these streams in waves walked nine of nine? At first you wanted nine, and then you wanted twelve. To look a little denser. Eh, young years, how many works it was worth looking good for us and I, on the contrary, did not like my full body, everything was insolent and then I advised me how to gather where - put it on the dress or another.

And what a flap of some new one had already selected the rest under it. She managed to preserve her childhood naivety and openness to these days, always found what to admire. Look, girlfriends, as if all the rays from the main flap are coming! Look how the halves are located in the square - it seems that the flaps are different, but how you are attached to each other like this, you will pick up your soul mate, you will delight everyone with the eye, like in the veil of Farsia and you will not pick up, like a song, rushing without a soul, ”Asia said and again leaned over the coverlet.

She was still young from her first husband, made attempts to start a new family, but, as they say, in the morning she was unlucky - in the evening she would not be taken off, in the evening she was unlucky - and she would not be bent at all, so she decided to devote her life to the children. Yes, only again everything is wrong: the son went astray, still cannot enter the rut.

Looks like Nasima wanted to distract Asia and tried to quickly take the conversation in the other direction.Now no one has a vessel of sorrow, it is not empty for us to be grateful that in such a summer we can come to a girlfriend Farzia with our feet, that we take these goodies with our own hands, and we also feel their taste. So that they do not fade and wear out.

This is how this flap is from my dress and others were already patching. And in the heart - my first. He perceived his harsh character as coldness, all, darted, attention, attention, you see, I lack and he heeded everything into the heart. The pressure was high, so from life and left because of this pressure and how many happy minutes were. It seems that I will never forgive myself the whims that I have erased why now to punish myself for the past?

Such a fate, the command of the Almighty. You can’t live the past. The remnants of life must be drawn in gratitude for every new dawn, for every new spring. Now not to live as much as it is lived. Let's look at the beauty of the world until your eyes get tired, the freshness of the world is like drinking tea, ”Ramsia tried quietly and restrainedly. One end of the cover was on the knees of Farsia.

She intercepted the reins of conversations, pointing to the very middle. Here it is - a flap with the "yyrtysh". Dave you deftly, Davehch said you about the “yyrtysh”, as if I had slashed my heart, I’m looking for it-I’m a covering, what a big one I remember your laughter with a bell to the whole room, when Saigafar broke this fabric from the first wave. So you have been nicknamed since then the "daughter-in-law".

And I thought that when I myself attached a bell on the arc to your wedding. It was impossible-it is impossible, the bell should attach the youngest brother of the bride, the most beloved, but I never gave anyone-everything myself is needed, all the time after some time went to match you. And Farzia, once again making it clear how she was glad that everything happened that way, looked up from the coverlet and nodded joyfully.

Then she began to look for another flap with her eyes, leaned over and pointed to him Gayshura.