Zhygylgan, the “fallen land”; Bozzhira Valley; underground mosques; and sacred springs.

These once sleeping bees,
Towers that shake with alarm.
Their drills set an example on the earth,
Their words stand in the sky.
Speaking of people, people,
Everything was made with labor.
Towers were built with them,
Mills were dug with them.
The people who did these things were brave heroes,
Withered, withered, withered, withered,
The battlefield of blood is a desolate mountain, stones are bald.
This strong, strong river would have been destroyed.
To bow to these, to please,
Let a paradise grow here,
Many future young centuries. Drillers have sweated tirelessly.

—Asylbek Aidarov