Oh, the beautiful city of Kabul wears a rugged mountain skirt,
And The rose is jealous of its lashlike thorns.
The dust of Kabuls blowing soil smarts lightly in my eyes,
But I love her, for knowledge and love both come from her dust.
I sing bright praises to her colourful tulips,
The beauty of her trees makes me blush.
How sparkling the water flows from PuliMastaan!
May Allah protect such beauty from the evil eye of man!
Khizr chose Kabul to Paradise,
For her mountains brought him near to heavens delights.
The forts dragonsprawling walls guard the city well,
Each brick is more precious than the treasure of Shayagan.
Every street in Kabul fascinates the eye.
In the bazaars, Egypts caravans pass by.
No one can count the beauteous moons on her rooftops,
And hundreds of lovely suns hide behind her walls.
Her mornings laugh is as gay as flowers,
Her dark nights shine like beautiful hair.
Her tuneful nightingales sing with flame in their notes,
Fiery songs like burning leaves, fall from their throats.
I sing to the gardens, Jahanara and Shahrara.
Even the Tuba of Paradise is Jealous of their greenery.
ಮುಖಪುಟ / ಸಾಹಿತ್ಯ ಸೊಗಡು