Land of my Childhood :: Khyber.ORG

پښتو :: پښتانه :: پښتونخواه :: پښتونوالی

Land of my Childhood, Musafar
Published in Khyber.ORG on Friday, July 6 2012 (http://www.khyber.org)


New Additions

[an error occurred while processing this directive]

From Archives


دواڼا داپريشن نه وړاندې او هم داپريشن دوران کښې دهيواد ګڼو دانشورانو، جمهوريت خوښو او وطن دوستو ډلو او اشخاصو دحکومت نه څو څو ځله غوښتنه کړې وه، چې دوانا اپريشن کښې دې ټول اولس اعتماد کښې واخستے شى او داپريشن متعلق دې ټول حقائق پارليمان ته وړاندې کړے شى چې اولس . . . نور

هارون الرشيد زوئې واقعه ، عارف بختيار پچيرې

دهارون الرشيد يو زوې ؤ چې دهغه عمر تقريباً شپاړس کاله ؤ هغه به ډير دزاهدانو او عارفانو په مجلس کښې ناست ؤ او زياتره به هديرې ته تلو هلته به ئې وئيل چې تاسو زمونږ نه مخکښې دنيا ته راغلى وے ددې دنيا تاسې ميلمانۀ وے خو تاسو ته دنيا خلاصون در نۀ کړو تر دې پورې چې قبرونو ته ورنه بې نوا لاړئ يوه ورځ دخپل پلار مجلس ته ورغے ددۀ پلار سره ټول وزيران او اميران . . . نور

Badar Munir , Mudassar Shah


The life and Times of Bada Munir . . . Read More

استاز عبدل لطيف منت بار ، سنګر مل زمان زئ

استاذ عبداللطيف منت بار په ١٣٣٥ کال کښې دهلمند ولايت دمارجى دښوونځيو امرؤ اوبيا په ننګرهار کښې پلټونکى په صفت مقرر شو چې دکار په څنګ کښې ئې سياسى غونډې او کانفرنسونه جوړکړى اودخلقو دويښولو لپاره ئې چغې وهلى دى ددۀ وړومبے شعر داؤ . . . نور

The Magic at Shandoor , Saifudin Ismail Ji

In the first century BC when polo was invented in Central Asia, kings probably judged the skills of their horsemen by watching them battle with the opponent's team to wrest the "polo" - ball in the local language - from them. There was no limit to the number of players in each team. . . . Read More



نن د پنجشنبی په ورځ د 2006 ع کال د می د میاشتی په یوولسمه نېټه د پښتنو دروند مشر او د عوامی نشنل پارټی ANP مرکزی صدر ښاغلی اسفند یار ولی خان د جرمنی د ویسلنګ په . . . نور

Land of my Childhood

Musafar

Publishing Date: Friday, July 6 2012

Land of my childhood, how I yearn for you,
Your children so fair, maids as pretty as flowers,
Handsome, stalwart sons brandishing guns as adornment,
With gazes averted from our mothers and sisters,
And your men courteous and true to their word,
Your cities were the praise and envy of people from lands afar,
Yea, they were called the Cities of Flowers,
O where, o where, have you gone,
Land of my childhood, how I yearn for you.

The kehwa-khanas of Qissa-Khwani in Kabalae Darwaza,
The seekh kababs of Sabiri astride the ganda nallah,
The aroma of tikkae mingling with the dust and smoke,
Roganae, kulchae, amrasae and zalobae to make you drool,
Ucha mewa, sheer chai, and the chugha besides a winter log fire,
The sitar to draw a chord and mangae with accompanying beat,
O where, o where have you gone,

Land of my childhood, how I yearn for you.
The citadel of Bala Hissar of my distant memory,
With crumbling walls yet majestic and intimidating,
The Chauk Yadgar, a confluence spot of yore for the mazdur,
The Ghanta Ghar clad in its brick elegance striking the hour,
The glory of Sethi Mohalla, a pearl set in an oyster,
The masjids of Qasim Ali Khan and Mahabat Khan,
The Samdo ki Gali of Kohati Darwaza,
O where, o where have you gone,

Land of my childhood, how I yearn for you.
The plaintive cry of the mashki filling mangee door to door,
Sprinkling the parched earth on a hot torrid afternoon,
The rich age of craftsmen priding themselves in their wares,
A rich time when there was respect between the old and young,
A rich time when one's word was an irrevocable bond,
The reverence and awe of the passing Moharram procession,
The human sound of the azaan floating over the air waves,
The clip clop of a horse drawn tonga a melodious beat,
O where, o where have you gone,

Land of my childhood, how I yearn for you.
But nay, tarry a while and ponder,
How could you go away, it was I who abandoned you.
Why didn't you beckon me to stay and grow in your shade,
Why didn't you enfold me to your bosom from distant places,
Why didn't you reach out to me then, as I reach out to you now,
Why didn't you plead with me, not to forsake you to the wolves,
O why, o why did I go and forsake you my beloved.

Land of my childhood, how I yearn for you.
I berate myself for returning so late in the day,
But I perceive a silver lining in the resilience of your being,
May the Almighty cleanse your soul and restore your dignity,
I shall cherish the day when, by His will, you shall rise from the ashes like the Pheonix.
Land of my childhood, how I yearn for you.


Poetry by Lt Col Liaquat Shah (Retd) who has adopted 'Musafar' as his pen name

Comments powered by Disqus

Land of my Childhood, Musafar
Published in Khyber.ORG on Friday, July 6 2012 (http://www.khyber.org)