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Landay are those national couplets in Pashto whose authors are unkown. They can, therefore, be called mirrors which reflect the sentiments and passions of every sensitive pashtoon man and woman.
These couplets are sung and enjoyed among lofty mountains, verdant valleys, vast deserts and sylvan sorroundings, in villages and towns, by the side of the cascading waterfall and the humble nomadic tent, on the sheperd's flute and the orchard-keeper's reedpipe, in short in every corner of the land of the Pashtoons.
The oldsters sing them in memory of a youth which is no more; youngmen and maidens seek the intoxicating tumult of a passionate youth in their lines; for the lovelorn they are messengers of words sweet and divine; the swordsmen dance to their melody on the battlefield; and the weary traveller forgets the pangs of separation from
These couplets, composed of plain, easily understood, yet fluent language, are totally free of the influence of foreign, languages. Although some pushto poems are based on Arabic prosody yet these couplets are not only unfettered by Arabic versifictation, they are based on a syllabic-prosody of their own in as much as the first line of the couplet has nine syllables and the second theirteen.
Another outstanding quality of these couplets in that contrary to the general pattern of poetry in most (landay) the woman address the man. This is so because compared to the male the setiments of the female are more tender, her sorrow more profound and he voice more sweeter, and that is why the (landay) are more moving in their effects, and the enjoyment is proportionately greator than that found in conventional pushto poetry.
Some Pashto Landy
If you do not fall a martyr in the battle of Maiwand;
The blooming season of your beauty will pass;
Give me your hand once for all;
I used to raise flowers in the presence of my beloved;
My heart is like a child; it cries,
I used to be more fresh than spring blossoms, O Beloved!
Had i known the pangs of separation,
Obstinate one! let me kiss you once;
I used to tell him that separation is a fact;
My heart complained to the eyes;
The eyes replied,
I dream of you at night and then,
Do not come when I am not home my darling!
My sweetheart came for a bath to the river;
You that sit upon the throne of justice;
May you recover from your serious illness!
If you like to see me come to the place
Laughter becomes you my beloved!
Separation kills me, union scorches me!
The water will bring you a strand of my looks;
My beloved returned unsuccessful from the battle;
What has befallen in the Pond?
I thought myself a King in imagination
You started loving, not I:
Perish this beauty and youth of mine;
Come, be the nosegay upon my bosom,