Translated by Rashid Khattak
I opened my eyes. The first voice I heard was my own cries. Then voices congratulating each other made a noise. The abundance of light forced me to close my eyes again. The noise...
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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
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Repeating of a sentence is repeating of life media_text
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Your love is beautiful as a painted lily, media_text
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Feet still wet from the freeze media_text
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بیا من دمی تو گفتگو کن media_text
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Love is all, love is flower media_text
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ای آشنای دیروز media_text
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When sun rises high media_text
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Do you remember? media_text
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[Translated by Hilal Nazki and Mujib Mehrdad] The blood in my stomach Inconspicuous pains shimmering from a distance media_text
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For Khorshid, whose name means Sun It’s always the sandals that are left on the scene, media_text
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The weather was extremely cold and snowy. The street was covered by ice and snow. Everyone was in a hurry to gohome as soon as possible. "Buy a handkerchief for yourself please," said a small boy, his hands... media_text
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