Fieldnotes on Humanity

I found this following refugee poem by chance. It is by an Afghanistani poet, Raziq Faani, and I thought I would regret it later if I did not translate it. ----- One morning, from the children’s playground, My little one returned with tearful eyes, And with the lump in his throat, he asked: "Tell me, dad! What is a refugee? Is it an insult or just a name?" At his question, a sorrow filled my heart, And a tear slipped uncontrollably down my cheek Quietly, I wiped it away with the back of my hand, As my mind searched for the right words. I told him: "Look, my dear child, Do you know what homeland means?" He nodded, "Yes, You once told me, That homeland is where our ancestors lived." I kissed his face, And with a heavy heart, I added: "If in one dark night, A band of thieves and marauders burn your dad's home, And set fire to everything, and you, in fear, run away, Spending nights on the streets of strangers, You will become a refugee, my child, You ...

I reminisce that rotting wooden bench on Louther street next to the library and across from the Lutheran Church we used to sit you always insisted "let's tarry awhile" a time unlike now, like ephemeral past sends new nostalgic errands

Loiq Sher-Ali (1941-2000) was born in a small village called Mazar-e Sharif (it shouldn't be confused with the city of Mazar-e Sharif which is one of the four largest city in Afghanistan) of the Panjakent district in the Sughd Region of Tajikistan. Shir-Ali was a notable figure in the Persian literary milieu of the twentieth century. He was strongly influenced by his countryman Abdollah Jafar ibn Mohammad Rudaki. Stylistically he was under the influence of Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh (Book of Kings) and Omar Khayyam’s poetry. Themes in his poetry are diverse. Commonly he is believed to be a cheerful poet , one can scarcely finds sadness and sorrow in his poetry. His complete works have been fully published in 2001 in both cyrillic and Farsi script. Here is a sample of his poetry that I translated from Tajiki into English: If you can’t make me laugh, don’t make me cry If you can’t help me, don’t hurt me If you can’t make me happy, don’t remind me of joy If you can’t make me joyfu...

Millions of people speak in Pashto language, but not many people around the world know how beautiful the language is. Today, I was searching for Pashto landei -  literally means short, only two lines - I stumbled upon a four lines love poem, which I thought deserved to be translated into English. That is what I did. --------- Lover, he cries day and night, the pain of his love but the beloved is a stony-hearted one who spills blood from the lover's heart Oh, her eyes! her eyebrows, like bows of war shoot the eyelashes into my heart. O people! Don't you see the wounds of her arrows in my heart? مین چه آشنایی کا، شپه ور څ به گریانی کا شهی، ده ستمگاره، خوشحال ز ړ و به زخمی کا لندۍ لری د ورڅـیو، با ڼو غشی کاری‌کا پرهار می گوره خلقه، دَ دلبر دَ تیر نبنان سو In Farsi عاشق، دردِ عشق خویش می‌گرید، شب‌ها و روزها معشوقه‌، جفاکار است، می‌ريزد خونِ سرخ قلبش را ابروانش کمان جنگی است و تيرهايِ مژگانش کشنده ای مردم زخم‌های تیر كمان یار را در من ببینید Poet: Unknow...