Abbottabad (poem)

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"Abbottabad" is a poem by Major James Abbott (1807–1896) who wrote the work about his experience of living in the area before leaving it. He was impressed by beauty of the area. The Pakistani city Abbottabad, which he founded (then capital of the Hazara District of British India), is named after him.[1] A plaque commemorating his poem is displayed at Lady Garden Park within the city.[2]

Poem text[edit]

<poem,> I remember the day when I first came here And smelt the sweet Abbottabad air

The trees and ground covered with snow Gave us indeed a brilliant show

To me the place seemed like a dream And far ran a lonesome stream

The wind hissed as if welcoming us The pine swayed creating a lot of fuss

And the tiny cuckoo sang it away A song very melodious and gay

I adored the place from the first sight And was happy that my coming here was right

And eight good years here passed very soon And we leave you perhaps on a sunny noon

Oh Abbottabad we are leaving you now To your natural beauty do I bow

Perhaps your winds sound will never reach my ear My gift for you is a few sad tears

I bid you farewell with a heavy heart Never from my mind will your memories thwart </poem>


An article by Stephen Moss of the Guardian newspaper refers to the poem as "one of the worst poems ever written". Moss speculates that the poem may sound better in Urdu and he did not read a translation. Moss also states that the version he read includes "oddly garbled" phrases which indicate it may be a badly translated form of the original.[3]


  1. ^ Isobel Shaw, Pakistan Handbook, Hong Kong, Local Colour Limited, (1998) p.519
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