Ghani Khan (1914 – 1996)
Widely considered as one of the best Pashto language poets of the 20th century.
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What is man’s life but love, love of self;
Man is dust, dust as his passion, dust as the beloved.
I want to see my people educated and enlightened. A people with a vision and a strong sense of justice who can carve out a future for themselves, in harmony with nature.
Death, go somewhere, get lost! I’m not done as yet –
Joy still flows from the amphora of colors into my cupped hands.
Pashtun is not merely a race but, in fact, a state of mind; there is a Pashtun lying inside every man, who at times wakes up and overpowers him.
But death blinds you, unaware of man’s fall –
An autumn that steals the flower from the flower peddler.
The Pashtun, are rain sown wheat-they all came up on the same day they are all the same!.... But the chief reason why I love him is because he will wash his face and oil his beard and perfume his locks and put on his best pair of clothes when he goes out to fight and die.
Manhood stands tall and high, and becomes madness;
The self takes leave of being and becomes ecstasy.
When iron sated with blood embraces love,
It turns into a bewildered sitar string.
When time robs man of love and the loved one,
He sees the beloved’s glory and his own.
How man sprouts when he sits down in dust!
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