"Nazo Ana"

Nazo Ana, who was born in 1061 H.(1651 A.D.)was a remarkable Pashtun lady famed for her intellect, bravery and kindness. She is best remembered for being the mother of the great Pashtun leader,Mirwais Khan Hotaki, but Nazo Ana was also a gifted poet. Her quatrain below is an example of a Pashtun's deep love of nature and their sharp eye for detail:

"At dawn the narcissus petals were wet,
Like tears, flowed each crystalline droplet.
Why do you cry thus, O pretty flower? I asked:
"My life is just a fleeting smile", replied the floret."

Nazo Ana

The Poet-A Magician

The following is from the Kilid-i-Afghani, beleived to have been composed during the seventeenth century in the mountains south of Peshawar: translated into English by T.C. Plowden.


"The Poet-A Magician"

The arrow needs an archer, and poetry a magician.
He must hold ever in the hand of his mind the weighing scales
of metre, rejecting the verse which is too short and that which is
too long.
His mistress, Truth, shall mount her black steed, the veil of allegory
drawn across her brow.
Let her shoot from beneath her eyelashes a hundred glances,
challenging and victorious.
Let the poet place upon her fingers the jewels of the art of many
hues, adorn her with the sandal-wood and the saffron of metaphor;
The bells of alliteration like bangles upon her feet, and on
her bosom the necklace of a mysterious rhythm.
Add to these the hidden meaning, like eyes half seen through
their lashes, that her whole body may be a perfect mystery.

"A Pashtun Warrior's Farewell" by anonymous

I first read this beautiful poem years ago and was unable to forget it. Recently I found it again in an old out of print book titled The Golden Pomegranate: A selection from the poetry of the Mogul Empire in India 1526-1858 translated into English verse by John Charles Edward Bowen. Though only three of the poems in his book were written by Pashtuns, Mr. Bowen has a special place in his heart for Pashtuns and dedicated his book with these words:

MOST OF THE TRANSLATIONS
WERE MADE WHILE SERVING THE
PEOPLE OF THE NORTH-WEST FRONTIER
IT IS TO THEM I DEDICATE THIS BOOK

This short simple poem by an anonymous author that he found and translated, eloquently embodies the bravery of a Pashtun warrior.

"A Pashtun Warrior's Farewell"

Beloved, on a parchment white
With my heart's blood to thee I write;
My pen a dagger, sharp and clean,
Inlaid with golden damascene,
Which I have used, and not in vain,
To keep my honour free from stain.

Now, when our house it's mourning wears,
Do not thyself give way to tears:
Instruct or eldest son that I
Was ever anxious thus to die,
For when death comes the brave are free-
So in thy dreams remember me.

Anonymous

A beautiful sword inlaid with damascene.
Damascene means: metalwork decorated with wavy patterns of inlay or etching.