Under Taliban
I had to stay there
in Kabul, with Afghans
am thankful for the chance.
Though did then
now do more; understand
the comments, complaints of airman.
He was young
hair covered with head-wear
"Dastar" of Taliban
Had remained as he was in his heart
as before loving to remain young
modern youth, and Afghan
"Our food is…"
he said and I got lost
"Kachaloo" with boiled eggs.
Confused, unaware
it was hard to know why
in his shoes I am now
With no job
have no gain, no income.
my food is potato and boiled eggs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem