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

Kabul, Afghanistan

Afghanistan is a place on mars
women and children are howling
and no one can help them from the earth

To Malala
A head without Borqa is a head with a bullet
why you took the pencil...


Because we fly with a single wing, my country has isolated itself from the rest of civilization. Afghanistan, as a culture, is male-centered--women are worth nothing. We believe all women are mentally...

دنیا چقدر شیرین بود روزیکه ترا دیدم
رویای من رنگین بود آن روز که ترا دیدم
اندر دل من یک بار یک روزنه ای تابید
آن نور امید بود روزیکه ترا دیدم
روزها گذشت و من اندر طلب رویت
عاشق شدم عاشقتر هر روز...

I promise I won’t leave you again,
Even if I died or I was blind_
I promise I won’t make you cry;
I won’t break your heart neither I will lie_
I promise to come with you,
Near or far please...


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...


You are my heart, you are my soul;
You are dream, as I see whole_
You are the dew on red flowers;
And that missing at each hours.
You are sun set, you are sun light;
You seem star each half...


She always wished
To see the sea...


Do you remember?
I am! “Puny”_
But look just once!
I am just me.
Do you know that?
I am ugly_
But see just once!
My inner beauty.
Do you still?
Want me to follow_


[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

دلم میخواست برای تو در آسمان ماه میبودم
برای دیدنت عزیز مثل شب سیاه میبودم
دلم میخواست به راه تو مرغ هوایی میشدم
برای پر زدن بتو بهر سو راهی میشدم
دلم میخواست برای تو ابر میبودم قطره قطره میباریدم...