#afghan poetry

[medealand]

— Afghan folk poet & warrior Malalai, known as "the Afghan Jeanne d'Arc"

[ibonoco]

It is me, the wild poppy...

C’est moi, le coquelicot sauvage, libre je vis, libre je fleuris. C’est moi le coquelicot sauvageOn ne me cultive pas, on ne me parfume pasJ’ai élu demeure dans les steppes comme mes compagnes les bichesL’eau je la tiens de la pluie, loin des rives du ruisseauOù l’on est trop à l’étroitAu jardin, je ne pousse pas C’est moi, le coquelicot sauvage, libre je vis, libre je fleuris Si mes joues…

[dashingwishes]

May this month of May be your happiest moment of your life. Where you worry less and finally enjoy yourself with sweet thoughts & remember to be grateful for the simple things in life 🩷

[gulkhvperai]

لا مې چې زړګي ته رانژدې نه وى

la me che zargi ta ranizde na we

Either you shouldn’t haven been this close to my heart

لا مو چې تر منځه فاصلې نه وى

la me che tar manza fasile na we

or there shouldn’t have been so much distance between us

[honeyandelixir]

آب باران و هوای دریا ذایقه چشمش را می‌سازد The mist of rain &   the breeze of rivers are what her eyes are made of

Qahar Aasi

[pukhtunistan]

زه لوی شوی یم مور

ته نور نشې کولای ما له ځانه سره وړي

زما انديښنې اوس زياتې دي

زما د خوبونو لست تر ما لوړ دی

زه دومره لوی شوی یم چې اوس نه شم کولای د شپې له خوا ستا دروازې

ته ولاړ شم او ژاړم.

I grew up mom,

You can’t carry me anymore,

My worries are more now,

My list of dreams is taller than me,

I have grown so much that now I can no longer go to your door at night and cry.

-Belal Jamali

📸: Omer Faizi

[theafghanrose]

شب افروزی چو مهتاب جوانی

سیه چشمی چو آب زندگانی

سر زلفی ز ناز و دلبری پر

لب و دندانی از یاقوت و از در

𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵,

𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵,

𝘍𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘴,

𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘴.

- 𝙉𝙞𝙯𝙖𝙢𝙞 𝙂𝙖𝙣𝙟𝙖𝙫𝙞

[thousurroundingverdure]

[pashtunology]

Women constitute the backbone of Pashtun society and social organisation. Their role is not only limited to home management, they have played a significant role in all fields throughout history. They have stood in the battlefield with men to defend the motherland and if we look into Pashto literature we find a significant contribution of women and their role in society.

Landey, Tapey and Naarey are three forms of unwritten Pashto folk literature, more than half of this fine and heart-rendering poetry is the work of women.

Landay is a traditional Afghan poetic form consisting of a single couplet. The most enchanting landey have been sung by Pashtun women in battlefields and during episodes of love, such as:

پاس په کمر ولاړه ګله!

نصیب د چا يې؟ اوبه زه در خېژومه

Oh flower on the mountain peak,

It is I who water you, God knows who would own you.

Pashtun women also used landey in the battlefield. We come across events in our national history where the singing of a single landey by a woman has proven to be more effective than weapons.

In the battle of Maiwand, when Pashtuns prepared to fight for their country, a Pashtun maiden proudly sent off her lover to the battlefield and dispatched this message to the commander of this patriotic war:

پر ایوب خان مې سلام وایه!

دا دئ جانان مې کومکي در ولېږنه

Convey my greetings to Ayub Khan,

I have sent off my lover to lend a hand.

When the young Pashtun returns triumphant from war, his lover greets him as such:

د خېره راغلې! په خېر راشې!

چې د دښمن په مخ کې خړ نه شوې مئينه

Welcome! Welcome home, thank God,

You were not humbled before the enemy.

[See photos for more landeys]

Other parts of folk literature are Naara in stories and Gharra in the national dance called Attan and Sundarey (songs) recited in weddings. Most of the Naaras and wedding songs have been authored by women. We’ll look into those in future posts. Stay tuned!

Artwork by minnamamik

Source: Prof Habibi articles

Pashtunology

[faithful-diaries]

"Agar Dil-e Sher nadaari, Safar-e Ishq nako"

If you don't have a heart of a lion, don't travel on the path of love.

[logophile-18]

This poem has a heart. You do not.

Where is my brother? My uncle? Did you kill them, too? (Is it my fault?) Father, walk with me, would you? (It’s no question. You must.)

Did you think twice before you shot them? (Were they just another heart?)

Dirty, dirty, dirty. The blood splatters on the dirt, sinking in as nothing more than water.

The problem stands here, unkindly: I am not just another heart.

Cover me all you wish, head to my wrists and ankles. But it will not change.

(We are still here. Our hearts are still beating.)

But theirs are not. Neither is yours.

I end, he ends. You don’t. (We pray that you do.)

This poem has a heart.

Can you hear it beating?

Can you hear my heart beating?

[semperardens-juli]

But, at the risk of appearing greedy, I will take the liberty of asking you for two things, one for me, one for another.

And The Mountains Echoed, Khaled Hosseini

leave a little kindness

[majestativa]

As I travelled down the river of my life I saw my voice (like Jonah) swallowed by a whale.

— Partaw Naderi, My Voice: A Decade of Poems from the Poetry Translation Centre, transl. by Sarah Maguire & Yama Yari, (2014)

[randomrichards]

THE COVENANT:

Afghan translator

Helps Sergeant through hostile lands

Who in turn saves him

[hemingways-slave]

[honeyandelixir]

همه زندانی مجبوریت و واهمه اند Everyone is captive to compulsion and dread.

Qahar Aasi