My dear Mazar

My dear Mazar
How can I draw you?
How can I draw paradise for those who do not know its appearance?
My love
My life
My morning

Here, the New Year begins with the paradisiacal Noruz celebration.
Spring begins with tulips
The summer blazes mercilessly
And the cold of winter takes human lives

My dear Mazar
Where the great poet Rumi was born
Where the towers are coloured blue
Where the mountains are covered with a white blanket
Where the people line the path from the blue mosque to the Simorgh Alborz football field to take part in the Buzkashi horse race
Where people speak different languages

Where the schools and universities are closed to women now
Where the uneducated Taliban rules
Where the Germans have built a house for themselves that has been destroyed now

My dear Mazar
Centre of the war
Where shots fall instead of raindrops
Where rivers of blood flow instead of water brooks

My dear Mazar
My paradise
You have remained more than a thousand years
How should your story go on?