Places

Kabul, Afghanistan

Kabul, Afghanistan

« I have come again and am shining like gold on the dusty road after years it is not the smell of soil it is the smell of my birthplace. »  —Mujib Mehrdad, The specks of birthplace

I

Something familiar
when you walk into town:
kids chase a rooster.
drying clothes flap in the sun,
old men play chess in the square.
They stare at first,
but later laugh with...

media_text

Feet still wet from the freeze
of a Band-e Amir pool,
strung one to the next
like stone beads
with waterfall thread,
we pile into the hatchback,
bumping back to the highway
to...

media_text

Can literature accept social responsibility?

Some say that the arts should be purely arts--nothing else, that writers should only serve the gods of beauty and joy. In some cases, this makes sense, particularly...

media_text

I came out with Gulab’s son. We waited near the Bibi Mahood Mausoleum. Cars were all around us. The police and army personnel were standing on both sides of the road too. Opposite the mausoleum, an American...

media_text

Your love is beautiful as a painted lily,
As a moon in darkness, as honesty.
Your love is sunset,
It’s neither golden, nor red_
Like a rose… no, a star,
It’s near although it seems far.
...

media_text

[Translated by Hilal Nazki and Mujib Mehrdad]

The blood in my stomach
Streams like the blood from your head

Inconspicuous pains shimmering from a distance
Small looks, the pain from a...

media_text

If you come in the fall
I will paint on a wall,
A love cottage and a moon_
I am waiting you come soon.
I will wait all the year,
Summer, spring, fall, winter_
I will count day by day;...

media_text

When sun rises high
I wish to fly
In silence of sunlight
At shinning moon of night
I want to see the sea
I wish to be free.
I and spring
Together sit and sing
Each moment is...

media_text
میتوان در ژرفنای یک نگاه
تا به اوج آسمان حتی رسید
میتوان در یک نگاه ساده ای
درد یک عشق نهانی را کشید
میتوان با دیدن یک ارغوان
حس شگفتن را بیدار ساخت
میتوان در اقیانوس آبی عشق
پاکی...
media_text
من آن گل سرخم
بلی آن گل لاله
رویم به در و دشت
چشمم چو پیاله
اندر دلم داغیست
از هجر غم یاری
آنکه گذاشت من را
با اشک و غم و ناله
برگ برگم پریشانند
چون چهره ای حیرانم
...
media_text

[Translated by Hilal Nazki and Mujib Mehrdad]

I have come again and am shining like gold
On the dusty road
After years
It is not the smell of soil
It is the smell of my birthplace
...

media_text

میروم با اشک و آه و ناله ها
میطپم من از هجوم درد ها
آخر اینجا هم برایم جا نبود...
هیچکس صادق به مثل ما نبود
در پس هر چهره ای بود چهره ها
هیچکس چون من نبود در...

media_text