Madar jan, I was always proud to be an Afghan
But I was never okay with the hate.
I was always loved, from Herat to Bamyan
But I never understood the bombing.
I cannot see my land the same anymore.
The attacks are killing the love
And the heartbeats are dead on the sky of Afghanistan.
This land is no longer beautiful, madar jan!
The smiles have vanished
The greens have turned gray
The pomegranates have been replaced with blood
And the future has been taken away.
They kill everyday, madar jan!
They kill everyone with so much hate.
They kill me, you, hazaras, shias, us!
How can I still have hope?
They took that away too, madar jan.
They shot every emotion in me
As they killed the moms and the babies.
Madar jan, what would have happened
If we were also…
If we were also…
Mama, my heart is aching
And it will never be healed again.