On this day in 2005 young Afghan poet Nadia Anjuman was beaten to death by her husband in Herat in Northwestern Afghanistan. The murder was later covered up with the connivance of both families, the police, and the local medical authorities.
It only makes sense to moan.
I don’t want to open my mouth anymore.
What should I sing of…?
Life will go on hating me
Whether I sing or I don’t sing.
Why should I talk of sweetness,
When I feel bitterness?
The bully’s fist has broken my face.
I have neither lover nor companion.
Who can I be sweet for?
Whether I speak or I laugh or I don’t laugh.
Whether I die or I live.
I’m lonely wherever I go.
I’m filled up with sorrow in the midst of a crowd.
I was born for nothingness.
My mouth should be sealed.
Oh my heart, you know it is Spring
And time to celebrate.
What can I do with a strapped-down wing,
that doesn’t allow me to fly ?
I have been silent too long,
But I never forget the melody,
Since every moment I whisper
The songs from my heart,
Reminding myself of
The day I will break this cage,
Fly from this solitude
And sing like a maniac.
I am not a weak poplar tree
To be shaken by any wind.
I am an Afghan woman,
It only makes sense to moan