As we watch the agony in Afghanistan, a poem by Nadia Anjuman نادیا انجمن‎ Though my posting this has no effect on this unfolding horror.

Appeal

O sky, pour down on this burnt earth–
she is yearning for a drop of life’s rain
Her lips are dry, her heart on fire
It is like looking at death

O cloud, drift toward this scorched land
A thousand farmers watch for you
Come, for the emerald mountains of the city
have worn mourner’s clothes for ages

O water, O nature’s healer, please come
Your absence breaks the flowers’ hearts
The gardens have no strength left
Smiles have dried from lips

O lord, don’t let the farmer
die thirsty in the furnace of time
One drop is an eternal gift,
renewing the farmer’s weak hands

O lord, show pity to the sullen nomads
O lord, show favor to the anguished heart of the sea
O lord, to the spring’s burning lips
to the burnt deserts, pour relief of rain

We are shamed and broken servants
drowned in sin, in blinding darkness
O lord, don’t let us weaken further
Absolve us, though we earned this torment

Pour water on us, for we are in flames
Some water to wet the spring’s arid eye
This burning earth is your disciple’s bedroom
don’t let it reel into complete chaos

Asad 1379 / Summer 2000

From this site. Copyright (c) The Iranian Burnt Books Foundation, 2007. English translation copyright (c) Diana Arterian and Marina Omar, 2015.