Fire was blazing from the throat of war
when I turned into life
The first one to free its glances towards my eyes was war
I grew up in a house built by the hands of war
I blossomed in a street whose trees bore the fruits of war
And breaking was growing from the branches of trees
I was taught at a school where all my classmates were named ‘War’
Our teacher always shouted war
And wrote war on the whiteboard, with blackness
We were taught war
I put on a grey headscarf of war whose flowers were bullets
I wore the scarlet dress of war with a bullet-made sash
I had a bracelet of bullets
At war, I fell in love with peace
I danced my dreams, strummed the guitar of my body and danced
I wrote love poems with the words of war
One day my soul got wounded
My soul was wounded over and over again
I was sitting in the bus of today
Travelling to the city of tomorrow,
when I turned into an explosion
I sold the newspaper of the sun in the sleeping streets
when twilight conquered me
And the news of me falling into pieces diffused everywhere
I played the drama of war in the theatre of time
when I caught fire
A night had not yet passed, when I again turned into life
In the very house that was built by the hands of war
And fire was blazing from the throat of war
*
«دختر جنگ»
…………………
سرودۀ خالده فروغ
…………………
آتش زبانه می‌کشید از دهان جنگ
که زنده‌گی شدم
نخستین کسی که رها کرد نگاهش را به چشمانم
جنگ بود
درخانه‌یی که آباد شده بود با دستان جنگ
پر کشیدم
شگوفیدم
در کوچه‌یی که درخت‌هایش بارور می‌شدند از میوهٔ جنگ
و شکستن می‌رویید از شاخه‌ها
درسم دادند
در مکتبی که نام تمام همصنفانم جنگ بود
معلم ما همیشه واژهٔ جنگ بر زبان داشت
و با سیاهی بر تختهٔ سفید می نوشت جنگ
ما جنگ می‌آموختیم
چادر خاکستری جنگ بر سر می‌کردم
که گل‌هایش گلوله‌ها بودند
بر تن می‌کردم پیراهن سرخ جنگ
که کمربندش از گلوله‌ها بود
دستبندی داشتم از گلوله‌ها
عاشق صلح شدم در جنگ
رؤیاهایم را رقصیدم و نواختم گیتار تنم را و خندیدم
شعر عشق سرودم با حرف‌های جنگ
روزی از روزهای جنگ زخمی شد روحم
بار بار بار روحم زخمی شد
نشسته بودم در بسِ امروز و سفر می‌کردم به شهر فردا
که انفجار شدم
روزنامهٔ آفتاب می‌فروختم در جادهٔ خوابیده
که غروب تسخیرم کرد
و دست به دست رسید خبر پر پر شدنم
نمایشنامهٔ جنگ بازی می‌کردم
در تیاتر روزگار
که آتش گرفتم
شبی نگذشت
در همان خانه‌یی که بر پا شده بود با دستان جنگ
بار دیگر زنده‌گی شدم
و زبانه می‌کشید آتش از زبان جنگ
//
Khaleda Froagh, poet and writer
Date of Birth: 01.12.1972
She has published 16 books (poetry, novel, literary research)
Former lecturer at literature faculty of Kabul University
She was in charge of the literary programmes of Radio Afghanistan
She was the editor of Sadaf (a quarterly magazine for Afghan women)
She also produced and presented the weekly TV literary programme (Kaakh-e-Buland) for TOLO TV.
Her poems have been published in different Afghan publications inside and outside Afghanistan.
Her poems have been translated into English, French, Arabic, Spanish, German and Norwegian.
She has travelled to Iran, Tajikistan, India, Holland, France, Spain and Germany to participate in literary festivals.
She has been a member of the Writer’s Association of Afghanistan.
She is a member of the Afghan PEN Centre.
Waheed Warasta, poet and literary translator
Currently fribyforfatter in Nesodden
Born: 14.10.1975
Former leader of Afghanistan PEN
Former editor of TOLOnews.com
Had a weekly language programme named ‘Gap’ on TOLO TV
Former head of the Open Media Fund for Afghanistan (OMFA)
I have published two books of my poetry in Persian and one in English.
Waheed Warasta has translated three books of Persian poems (by Samay Hamed) into English. The books are titled Night Password, The wind and the window, and Fragrant Names.
KLIMAAKSJON / NORWEGIAN WRITERS´ CLIMATE CAMPAIGN // NWCC 