Upon My Soul, Upon My Afghanistan

by Atefeh Jafari Translated by Asadullah Jafari Pezhman

Photo by Asadullah Jafari Pezhman

How can I wake up after your sun has set?
I must wear black clothes from now on
This time I will not fulfill my dreams, my destiny

No longer can I travel to your Herat
The girls in your house
Will be fatherless brides one day
Their fathers lost to war

I feel the pains of widowed women,
I shout to inform the world
But the world is ignoring the sins of the Taliban
As if your death was not their fault

I shout out my sorrow with a heart full of hate
I am screaming as you burn tonight
We will not forget the sorrow of these years

The destroyer of the Bamyan Buddhas is back
Instead of the blue chadri in my homeland
You have shrouded women in dust and blood

After Herat, Ghazni, Kunduz and Kandahar
Sakhi’s enemies went in the direction of Mazar-e Sharif
Again, your mouth is full of the smell of blood
Amu, your girls’ eyes are filled
Amu cries for your throat full of hate
It has cried on your lap without fuss

These unending cries will come to an end
On the day that Moweud’s Promised Friday arrives

Writing by Afghan writers. Editor/Publisher: Nancy Antle; Editor: Pamela Hart