Every step, every destination, I love you.
To spite the murderous traditions, I love you.
You are pious, your kisses are your prayer.
You are different, your kisses are your protest.
You are not afraid of love, of hope, of tomorrow.
I kiss you amid the Taliban, you are not afraid!
KABUL, Afghanistan — The poet Ramin Mazhar, who wrote these lines in Farsi, was barely 5 years old when the United States invaded Afghanistan in 2001 to topple the Taliban’s oppressive regime.
In the 18 years since, Mr. Mazhar and an entire generation of largely urban Afghans have grown up with all the basic liberties, including freedom of expression, that the Taliban had erased. But as American diplomats push for a deal with the Taliban to end the long war, Mr. Mazhar’s generation has been gripped by fear that those liberties could be at risk.
Even Valentine’s Day has taken on a tinge of protest. In the Afghan tradition, love is often expressed through flowery poetry. This year, artists and activists like Mr. Mazhar are using Valentine’s Day to offer verses of a different sort, raising their voices against any potential erosion of rights.
After Taliban representatives met with Afghan politicians in Moscow last week, smiling and exchanging handshakes in a scene of seeming bonhomie, Mr. Mazhar read his poem in a small auditorium at Kabul University as an emblem of dissent. His message: The mostly older leaders who sat with the Taliban did not represent the values that shaped his generation.
His friends were nervous, he said, that his poem’s criticism of conservative thinking might prompt someone to throw a shoe at his face. But to their surprise, the poem was received with loud applause in the packed hall.
Mr. Mazhar, who is also a newspaper reporter, had another reason for reading poetry — the birthday of his friend Samim Faramarz, a television reporter and writer who was killed in a blast as he was reporting live on television last year. Like Mr. Mazhar, Mr. Faramarz, 28, had embraced the freedoms of the past 18 years, and often expressed it in his writings and storytelling.
“It was a promise to Samim Faramarz — that freedom of expression, and free press, would not be defeated here,” Mr. Mazhar said.
In the week since, Mr. Mazhar’s verse — “I kiss you amid the Taliban, you are not afraid!” — has become a rallying cry for young artists and activists around the city, and on social media. Their culminating event was a poetry reading marking Valentine’s Day on a hilltop in Kabul.
Mahtab Sahel, 28, a poet who has published two collections, was first to read, her voice booming from a loudspeaker toward the snow-covered mountain peaks that wrap around the densely populated city.
You smile, and my cells, one by one,
fly, taking me to your space.
You are the soft morning sun and I,
bud by bud, blossom at your feet.
Ms. Sahel, who was a child when the Taliban ruled, says she still has nightmares of some of the public violence she saw the militants rain on women. But her poetry is shaped by more recent memories of violence and loss.
“Every night before going to sleep, I think about those women who have lost their loved ones in this war,” she said. “I think about women who live in Helmand, Kandahar and Paktia, because they suffer more from the current war. I write their sorrow, their pain and losses.”
Finding a resolution to warfare that has dragged on for 40 years, long predating the American involvement, will be no easy task. It will require balancing the needs of a diverse society against the demands of a stubborn insurgency.
On one side of that society are young urbanites like Mr. Mazhar and Ms. Sahel, for whom liberties are a routine part of life. On the other are large swaths of the population in the countryside who have received few of the benefits of the past 18 years. For them, what matters most is a rapid end to fighting that has brought constant misery and the indignity of repeated displacement.
Even in celebrating Valentine’s Day, the divide was clear. Flower Street, an old Kabul shopping area that blossoms with red balloons and roses on this day, is right across from one of the main trauma hospitals for the victims of war. As young couples bought gifts and clicked photos, wounded victims of violence went in and out of the hospital, their families crouched behind its walls.
During the years of Taliban control, the militants barred women and girls from attending school, and prohibited music and television. Smashed instruments and TV sets hung from trees served as potent reminders. Mr. Mazhar, who lived next door to a school as a child, remembers his older sister, Malalai, putting her ear to the wall as lessons of biology or history would start, tears rolling down her face.
The fight to preserve basic freedoms is not just against the Taliban, though. It also includes some currently in power, Mr. Mazhar said.
His poem “is not just about the Taliban that kill people. This is more about a way of thinking, a Talibanism that has space in every home here,” he said. “I know girls whose father might allow and support her to go to school, then her uncle will prevent her. The uncle would have no weapon, no connection to the Taliban.”
As an artist, he walks a fine line — taking an old poetry tradition relying on vague metaphors of beauty and infusing it with his political activism.
“The beloved in my poetry is not just someone who has beautiful curls, who has beautiful eyes, who has a beautiful physique. My beloved is not someone who just dances with me, who kisses me,” Mr. Mazhar said. “My beloved is someone who is affected by the political situation. When she walks the streets, her brother is assassinated, her family could be lost in a suicide bombing.”
He added, “A political beloved, like the university students of Kabul.”B:
【回】【到】【营】【寨】，【已】【经】【是】【黄】【昏】【了】。 【吕】【布】【等】【人】【早】【就】【率】【人】【在】【外】【相】【迎】。 【将】【军】！ 【看】【到】【李】【坏】【来】【了】，【吕】【布】【大】【踏】【步】【来】【到】【了】【他】【的】【面】【前】，【愧】【疚】【道】：“【听】【闻】【将】【军】【山】【中】【遇】【袭】。【吕】【布】【心】【如】【刀】【割】，【无】【奈】【守】【营】【重】【任】【在】【身】，【不】【敢】【妄】【动】。【好】【在】【将】【军】【福】【大】【命】【大】，【没】【有】【什】【么】【损】【失】。【否】【则】【吕】【布】【罪】【孽】【大】【了】。” 【这】【厮】【装】【模】【作】【样】。 【呵】【呵】！ 【看】【到】【吕】【布】【的】【嘴】
【另】【外】【一】【边】，【当】【秦】【芳】【蘅】【得】【知】，【抽】【签】【与】【她】【比】【试】【的】【人】，【竟】【然】【是】【弟】【弟】【秦】【爵】！ 【秦】【芳】【蘅】【立】【刻】【在】【人】【群】【中】【搜】【寻】【弟】【弟】【秦】【爵】【的】【身】【影】，【很】【快】【就】【看】【到】，【秦】【爵】【和】【老】【柴】，【站】【在】【风】【云】【台】【边】【上】，【正】【在】【看】【山】【下】【的】【风】【景】。 【秦】【芳】【蘅】【便】【领】【着】【黑】【月】【及】【她】【刚】【认】【识】【的】【两】【个】【小】【姐】【妹】，【一】【同】【跑】【过】【来】【与】【秦】【爵】【打】【招】【呼】。 “【弟】【弟】，【来】，【我】【给】【你】【介】【绍】【一】【下】，【这】【位】【是】【韩】【芸】【芸】，【这】济公活佛94116【森】【王】【猩】【再】【次】【变】【长】【了】【之】【前】【的】【巨】【大】【的】【猩】【猩】【的】【模】【样】。 【白】【月】【衫】【穿】【过】【了】【森】【王】【猩】【的】【心】【脏】【这】【件】【事】【情】，【倒】【是】【没】【有】【特】【别】【的】【重】【要】。 【森】【王】【猩】【仅】【仅】【只】【是】【简】【单】【的】【修】【复】【了】【一】【下】，【心】【脏】【就】【愈】【合】【了】。 【但】【是】【妖】【气】【消】【耗】【了】【太】【多】【太】【多】，【森】【王】【猩】【已】【经】【没】【有】【足】【够】【的】【能】【量】【来】【催】【动】【自】【己】【之】【前】【的】【那】【门】【禁】【术】【了】。 【可】【是】，【当】【看】【到】【了】【自】【己】【的】【小】【弟】【白】【虎】【被】【白】【月】【衫】【各】【种】【欺】
【君】【兮】【夜】【将】【他】【们】【一】【群】【人】【带】【到】【了】【自】【己】【平】【时】【处】【理】【特】【别】【事】【的】【地】【方】。【只】【要】【这】【些】【人】【说】【假】【话】，【他】【不】【介】【意】【把】【眼】【前】【的】【人】【都】【送】【下】【去】【与】【前】【面】【的】【人】【做】【伴】【儿】。 【君】【兮】【夜】【目】【光】【冷】【冷】【的】【睥】【睨】【着】【刘】【森】：“【你】【先】【前】【才】【说】【你】【有】【可】【能】【知】【道】【她】【的】【去】【向】。” 【刘】【森】【被】【那】【个】【眼】【神】【盯】【着】，【头】【皮】【发】【麻】，【但】【他】【还】【是】【挺】【起】【胸】【膛】，【直】【视】【那】【个】【目】【光】。【说】【出】【了】【自】【己】【的】【猜】【测】。 “【我】【想】
“【邹】【燕】【妮】，【我】【见】【你】【还】【是】【去】【看】【看】【心】【理】【医】【生】【吧】？ 【你】【是】【不】【是】【和】【他】【睡】【过】【和】【我】【有】【关】【系】【吗】？ 【怎】【么】【你】【还】【想】【硬】【插】【手】【当】【小】【三】【啊】！【就】【是】【你】【愿】【意】【的】【话】，【也】【得】【看】【看】【我】【男】【朋】【友】【愿】【不】【愿】【意】【占】【你】【这】【便】【宜】！ 【而】【至】【于】【以】【前】【发】【生】【过】【什】【么】【事】【儿】，【我】【不】【在】【乎】，【我】【只】【知】【道】【我】【和】【他】【在】【一】【起】【之】【后】，【他】【就】【一】【直】【对】【我】【很】【好】。 【也】【没】【有】【和】【别】【的】【女】【人】【发】【生】【过】【什】【么】【不】【正】【当】
【现】【在】【想】【想】【姜】【林】【林】【当】【时】【毫】【无】【征】【兆】【的】【躺】【在】【地】【上】【叫】【半】【天】【都】【不】【应】，【是】【真】【的】【挺】【吓】【人】。 【姜】【林】【林】【红】【唇】【勾】【起】，【拍】【了】【拍】【张】【雯】【雯】【的】【手】【柔】【声】【的】【安】【抚】【道】，“【我】【没】【事】，【就】【是】【有】【点】【低】【血】【糖】，【休】【息】【一】【下】【就】【好】【了】。” “【真】【的】？”【张】【雯】【雯】【显】【示】【还】【是】【有】【些】【不】【相】【信】。 “【是】【真】【的】，【你】【这】【小】【丫】【头】【还】【真】【有】【趣】。”【坐】【在】【办】【公】【桌】【上】【整】【理】【资】【料】【的】【校】【医】【看】【着】【张】【雯】【雯】【肯】【定】