Son Of Sword Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Son of sword

To me two are the same
history and qollak
(Piggy Bank)

They hold tight to all what
time drops, we drop
for saving.

If coin is golden, is silver or bronze
they remain as we send,
never change.

"What a shame! "
we hear of two sides
oppressor and oppressed.

Don't trust either one
both alike, see one side
the metal or the art.

The blood on the earth
talks true of the birth
that is all.

Now I sit all alone
and think of Nader Shah
(Son of sword)

He crossed the desert
he was child of Kalat
he had guts, was smart.

He broke backbone of
invader called Afghan
(name is wrong)

Truth comes to the eyes
if open to both sides.

Hootaki, son of a governor
rose because father lost.