Chorus (in Pashto, transliterated): Zama shpa da stargo pa ranga rawali Laila da, da khudai da jannat ghwakhwali Kana che ta nachee – da rogano jang de Da khkulay ta nachee – da da zarghuno rang de
She holds the hem of her kameez like a letter, The pleats unfold tales that only hearts know better. Not a word from her lips – but her shoulder blade speaks Of mountains, of wars, of the peace that she seeks. pashto girls dance
(When you dance – it’s the war of roses When you sway – it’s the hue of golden poses Sister, dance your own rose with honor Pashtun freedom – the arrival of flowers...) Chorus (in Pashto, transliterated): Zama shpa da stargo
Warkrora da shamalo pa ghumaar ke Rasha kawee da gulono lewanai... She walks like a branch of the Kandahar vine, Ankala (ankle bells) whispering secrets of the shrine. Her braid is a river of midnight and honey, Her eyes are the loot of a sun that’s still sunny. She walks like a branch of the Kandahar
But look – she’s not weeping, she’s not a lament. Her wrists cut the air like a happy event. She stamps on the ground where her grandmother prayed, And says with her hips: “I am not afraid.” “They said a Pashto girl dances only in her courtyard. So she brought the courtyard – into her heartbeat. They said our dance is grief disguised. But watch her. This is fire. This is pride. This is a thousand weddings in one stride.” Final Chorus (faster, joyful, clapping crescendo):
Kana che ta nachee – da rogano jang de Da khkulay ta nachee – da da zarghuno rang de Wrora de, khpala khkule ra da nango sara Da Pukhto nijat – da Gulona rasha...
(Translation:) My night is colored by the shade of your eyes You are Laila, you are a glimpse of heaven's prize When you dance – it’s the war of roses When you sway – it’s the hue of golden poses She spins, and the dust turns to saffron and smoke, Her dupatta – a flag that no empire broke. Each turn is a letter from the frontier’s lost throat, Each gesture a Pashto unwritten, remote.