To Oppressed Afghanistan and Its Innocent Girls

By Shaaban Karamdokht
Translation by Asadullah Jafari “Pezhman”

Again blood, blood, blood, this time
The design of the Iftar table was red
Suddenly, it fell on the sheet of soil
Blood from the laps of the vernal girls

The girls with bright eyes
The girls with a lot of hope
The girls with beautiful colors
Their eyes were full of the scent of flowers

The sun was in their smiles
Their faces were as fresh as pomegranate flowers
Girls who were so passionate
Girls who were blessed with love

The girls were darling and sweet
One by one, like expensive pearls
They fell on the ground, slowly
Their faces on the uneven ground

It’s like a secret on the inscription of Yad
Their blood was flowing on their faces
They watch the sky
They meet in the bright dawn

Their hearts on the way to the light of Madina
They sacrificed their lives for their friends
It has been a sad few days, recently
The rose did not grow in the flower garden

The garden was closed, the scenery burned
There were no leaves on the trees and no burden
Ah, Kabul, look in the mirror
Hatred pours from your doors and walls

Ah, Kabul, turn on your light
In the silence of such a difficult night
Review the wounds and calmly
Count the scars with tired lips

Ah, Kabul, the glory of your voice
Left under the debris
From these bloodshot eyes
From these wide-ranging wounds

Ah, Kabul, what a heavy pain and wound
It reaches you from the left and right
Ah, Kabul, next to their bodies
We left with a thousand lamentations

Ah, from this blood that is still flowing
Ah, from this blood shed on the cheek
It rains silently and romantically
Onto the grass of the gem-laden clouds
The girls who know about love
Their hearts were brighter than meeting.