Attention, let poetry light up life
Source: Poetry Journal, March 2022, First Half Of The Monthly Magazine "International Poetry Scene"
Khaledah Forugh (b. 1972) is a poet born in Kabul and graduated from the Department of Languages and Literatures of Darry at Kabul University. After graduation, he worked on National Radio Of Afghanistan. In 1996, he moved to Peshawar, Pakistan, and later became a professor at Kabul University, a member of the Afghan Writers Association, and the editor-in-chief of the famous Afghan literary quarterly magazine Clams. In 2000, he published "Through the Century of Cain", "The Rise of the Sun God", "The Window to the Thunder Season", and "The Fate of the Hand of the Lantern Generation", which produced a great sensation and became the best of the young generation of Afghan poets. She has also published other collections of poems: Streets in Dreams and Memories (2001), Forever Is Five O'Clock in the Afternoon (publication year unknown), and Mary, Your Holiness Is Not Worth a Dollar (2017).
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Selected Poems of Hariday Flug
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Translated by Mu Hongyan
01
The Sun God Revolts
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O slaves! Let yourself bloom like popcorn
Reveal the perfect soul from the family workshop
O girls in the desert! O my fellow travelers!
Revealing "Union" from the "Break" Given by Fate (1)
Be a lover and have Shames' ambitions
Glory is shown in The Masnavi (2) of Love
In order to give birth to a magical Rustam from the East
The white channel means that Zar (3) is on stage
Give up the night (4), from the eyes of the years
Reveal the belief in the dreamy sun
O free man in the garden! O chanters of poetry!
Soar in the Kaaba of Sound (5).
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Note: (1) "Disconnection" means that women cannot go out, are isolated from the outside world, and are "disconnected" from the outside world.
(2) "Masnavi": "Masnavi" originally meant "narrative poetry", and it is also the title of a long collection of narrative poems by the famous Persian poet Rumi (1207-1273).
(3) Zar: A warrior in ancient Iranian myths and legends, born with white hair, regarded as a monster by his father, abandoned in the mountains, and raised by a phoenix. The poet repeatedly used "white" in his poems to symbolize the display of women.
(4) Night: Here is a metaphor for the robe worn by Afghan women.
(5) Kaaba: The Kaaba where Muslims worship. Here is a metaphor for the divine.
02 Moonlight Falls
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At the moment, I put myself on the pillow of silence
Place under the arms of the night
In the dreamy alleys
I don't hang around anymore
I am always with you in the white truth of love
The earth (1) cannot stand the epic of my voice
I soared to the edge of the cloud of thought
Turn my voice into a moonlight waterfall
Let the thirsty jealousy make his face black
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Note: (1) The land here refers to the land of Afghanistan.
03
Jump over the fire of time
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In the first month, when I chanted poetry
I bloomed
The tree was also excited
I felt it
The state of the leaves
I heard that
Breathing in the small garden of the courtyard
Nature rushes through me
The sky became my friend
Extend its star-filled palm toward me
The night I chanted poetry
I discovered the mystery of Lady Oyama (1).
Her firm steps
It's Sawush (2)
For the love of Frances (3).
A raging fire of faith that leaps through time
The night I chanted poetry
I became a martyr
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Note: (1) In many places in his poems, the poet uses the "mountain" as a metaphor for himself, describing the imprisoned Afghan women as being shaped into a silent mountain.
(2) (3) Sawush: An Iranian prince in ancient mythology, framed by his father's concubine, who proved his innocence by jumping over the raging fire on his horse. Frances was Savish's wife.
04 Cultural treasures
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The cultural flag is only half held high
Countless treasures are on display
What an incurable wound
The bustling palms can't stroke your braids either
Why have you been sitting in silence ever since
The eyes of the nation are already bloody love
The alleys of the colonized years
It's so narrow for us
Waking has not yet reached there
Strong winds blow in all directions
This time, it rained
Hold the branches with both hands
Dragged to the ground without thinking
Reed flute
Playing lonely music
05
Dagger of years
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In these years when I could not breathe together, I reached the mountains
From the pamir's loneliness I shouted
Those evenings, the Eastern Star did not wear the "Crown of Glory"
From this old destiny I shouted
The green earth of sound turned to stone
At this moment, from the mythical generation I shouted loudly
Deliver the branches of its memory to the wind, at the moment
From the bird's nest of the image I shouted loudly
More bitter than the dagger of time
I and the language of the transverse flute, I'm going to shout loudly
06
Gravel pavement
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Oh girls! A long night without hope
Oh girls! Countless frustrations without sound
What a charred lamp in the sky
In this lost white
Talk to me about a relationship
Oh girls! Your ID
It is the evening pass of hatred
If the sunset of your eyes continues
If your chastity is with a humble stream
Skin-to-skin matching
It is certain that it will become black
Then, become a stone pavement
07 Myths and stories
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He wanted me to be a myth on earth
But in fact I was just a lunatic
A madman who tells a myth
On the other hand, I am a mythical story
I was his architectural marvel, but I saw it
I was nothing more than a mythical story over the years
08
Crying
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The corpses of last night's sea tormented the coast
Guess what, this I've cried to where I'm already
I'm not interested in fleeting laughter
If I cry, I cry until I Allah
My whole homeland was empty, and I was alone
I cried, for the endless emptiness
09
Silence and pitch blackness
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I went to find myself, to heal myself
But I saw that it didn't work, and in the end I lost my life
I didn't go to fight silence and pitch blackness
For I took the lamp of sound and handed it to the rain
I heard the motherland saying: war, war, war
I sent my Muslim daughter to pagan land
My name has become a lie, a demise, a confusion, so what does it matter?
In this turbulent air, its flames do not believe in Allah
10 Sober in drunkenness
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Life is nailed to endless wars
When you encounter deep pain, your heart will explode
I'm not just giving up on the city
At the same time, it is also a country without art and without a country
I am a modern person, and I belong to any era at the same time
Every shadow is me, and my blood is a flame
Wake up from the great altar of wine in this land
Drink the stars and abandon the drunken eyes
Hajar's (1) loyalty and the mirror of time are you
Make a path out of this tribe of idols
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Note: (1) In Islam, the concubine of prophet Ibrahim and the mother of Ismaili, is regarded as the mother of the Arab nation and synonymous with "holy daughter".
11 The Land of Magic
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Both of us are the wounds of history
Hopefully, we understand that we ourselves are the healing agent
I have the same fate as you
I cry with you
I and you are Rudaki and Rabee
I am with you in the magical land
Persian, Dari, Tajik
The same cloud of the city we divide into three pieces
We are a strong bond
Murana, Hafez, Mahesti, Haju... ①
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Note: (1) Rudaki, Labeye, Murana, Hafez, Mahesti, and Haju are all famous poets in the history of Persian classical literature.
12 Poetry Volcano
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Where is peace and tranquility? I want to see through it
I'm a time traveler and how should I live
One evening the woods-like soldiers brought me to all evenings
A tree crossed the window to meet me
My hands, eyes, heart, and forehead are burning
I am the volcano of poetry, and I have no other way to go
Linger in this magical creation of heart and passion
13 It's always five o'clock in the afternoon
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They drew strikethroughs in the purple lines of poetry in my eyes
Wasted effort!
They use the pen of dark clouds
Put my poetic words
Cut off one by one
I can't recite the verses of love
They cut off my voice
Despite the blood, despite the scars
But I've recorded it on a tape of heart of love
Despair makes people stronger
They're not used to seeing me move forward
Going out is an unforgivable sin
You can only sit, frustrated, and silent forever
They advised me in the mirror
Our years are always at five o'clock in the afternoon (1)
It's not five o'clock in the morning at any time
At no time will I leave my pool of memory
Going out is an unforgivable sin of the years
The breath of dusk is always haunting my nose
I have been shaped into a statue of a mountain
Spend each night in long cries
The roar of the city has grown rusty
Tired
Our twitter at home is our word
Pour your heart out to the wall
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Note: (1) During the Taliban's rule in Afghanistan, women were forbidden to go out after 5 p.m. If you wish to go out, you must have a special pass.
14 Depict the image
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A tree cannot answer the greeting of rain
They handed my bloody coffin to the moon
In these years when there was no common breathing I arrived at the mountains
I was dumb and thirsty, and countless wounds of shame were inflicted upon us
The argument of poetry, for 1 and 2, is
Freedom, sound, light, action, escape from the night
The argument of poetry, for 1 and 2, is
We become the calendar in the prison of this fact
We become graves in the past we deserve
15 Black Dark
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"Who are those who think about the sun, and who are they?!"
That's right, their eyes are here in the evening, it's the evening
At night, its words are too long
It calls itself the body of the morning
Lanterns can be lit at night
If you don't know how to read sentences, just read it
Shooting stars are also stars at night
Despite burning eyes, he is also the host of the night
"If you have freedom,
We are not lights! ”
In the dark night of the years, from beginning to end
On these nights, moonlight became the most displaced sound
It is indeed night, but arrogance is not a lamp in the end
16
Good news
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Let go of the darkness from the eyes of the years
Shine the faith of the brilliant sun
(Voice and Silence)
"You don't have stars, talk about what light!"
We are us, we are a country of great prestige! ”
If the star of my poetry reached his eyes
You know, in the evening it will be defeated, and the dawn will replace it
The blood of life dripped from the hot veins of the earth
I used every drop of my blood to cultivate a young tree
Jiayin, Jasmine and Effort blend happily
Don't you see that my poetic hand has shaken this high wall
Talk to me
This time, I have escaped from the holocaust of love and sanity
Excerpted from the first half of the March 2022 issue of Poetry Journal
Column Editor Zhao Zhifang
Editor: Wang Aofei, Second Instance: Man Man, Final Trial: Jin Shikai