My head
dirt covered
lamenting father
grief prostrate
New grave
my son slain
innocent sweet soul
wasted life...
A whisper on the wind...
'oh Papa.. cry not!
I am no longer
the poor farmer.'
'I am now a prince
at home with God
and one day
you shall see.'
Old Afghan,
quite near
speaking softly
eulogizing
'This sad day
now comes,
my son...
prince of men
now has gone
at home with God'
Old Afghan continued..
voice now quaking
sad his lament.
My mind's eye
saw not my son
I saw...Satan,
but as a child
playing at our home
Gul Kako
my son called
with great love.
No longer
prince of men
this childhood friend
could not I see
only this Satan
killer of my son
_____
Poem In Pashto By: Afzal Shauq
Translated in English By: Alley Boling
Book: 'TWIST OF FATES' Poem No.161/Page.216
Web Link: http: //khyberwatch.com/nandara/index.php?
option=com_content&task=view&id=378&Itemid=1
PDF files: http: //khyber.org/books/ashauq/index.shtml
Poet's weblog: www.tolafghan.com/members/afzalshauq
© Afzal Shauq
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I would almost cry after reading this poem, its such a cruel world that takes our children from our hands. You did a great job in expressing the story...Hope our world will get better & we will write happy true stories one day!