Mirza Muhammed Ali Saib
Oh, the beautiful city of Kabul wears a rugged mountain skirt,
And The rose is jealous of its lash-like thorns.
The dust of Kabul's 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 Pul-i-Mastaan!
May Allah protect such beauty from the evil eye of man!
Khizr chose Kabul to Paradise,
For her mountains brought him near to heaven's delights.
The fort's dragon-sprawling 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, Egypt's caravans pass by.
No one can count the beauteous moons on her rooftops,
And hundreds of lovely suns hide behind her walls.
Her morning's 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.
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Comments about this poem (Kabul by Mirza Muhammed Ali Saib )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
(1207 - 1273)
(12 March 1922 - 21 October 1969)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 February 1900 – 11 April 1977)
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