Afzal Shauq

Rookie (Somewhere in the world of dreams)

WHAT TO NAME..? (A True Afghan story)

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

'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: //
P DF files: http: //
Poet's weblog:
© Afzal Shauq

Submitted: Saturday, May 09, 2009


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  • Rookie Dana Amer (6/30/2009 2:55:00 PM)

    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! (Report) Reply

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