In the west of Afghanistan
in Sanglakhat,
rivers flow under large green mountains.
Early in the morning, geese and wild turkeys sing.
Parrots flutter among the blooming flowers—
roses, tulips, lilies, and sunflowers.

The sun shines and the clouds go round.
The weather is wonderful,
the sky blue and clear like a mirror.
Memories of my childhood in Ghazni
come back to me in Sanglakhat;
I see the mountains and rivers from a long time ago.

The fruit is delicious.
I once was caught with my cousins and siblings,
eating from the garden’s grove—
apricots, apples, grapes, peaches, cherries.
But the people are so hospitable.
They took us into their gardens, their homes,
and never yelled over the fruits we stole.

Sangklakhat is the nicest place I have been.

By Zohra M., age 16

Photo by Phil Borges.