Would I ever see the land, where red tulips grow?
Would I ever roll down those emerald slopes?
Would I ever see the aged, rugged stone pair?
Peacefully at Bamian's blue valley stare...
And will the children be running, holding
The utopian skirts of tomorrow...
Laughing, laughing...
Hush, hush! You grown-old, wandering child ...
Oh remains of yesterday, where are my hopes?
Oh pain of life-mares...my sweet dreams?
The blind war has crushed all the tulips,
And inside the blood-stained ruins,
Mourning, the wind echoes...
Weeping, weeping...

Scattered books, old pages, and night staring
Hasty raindrops at the walls, knocking...
On the window panes, running, running...
Old songs, empty space, voiceless plea
White hair, puffy eyes, wandering me
Whispering, whispering...

Would I ever?
Could I ever?