by Muhammad Shanazar
We are the astray travellers,
Of South Asia,
We have purchased weapons
by selling our dreams;
And always preferred to form forces
To the starving children.
Now in our deserted courtyard
The trenches slink,
And blood-claiming Furnace of War
Gazes at our well grown up bodies
With capricious eyes.
From behind the table of dialogue
Whispers to us,
And the starved graveyard
By steadily creeping,
Has reached walls of the city.
On the branch of our helpless eyes,
The dream of prosperity and friendship
The moment is alert, awakening in my blood,
When these forces … in front of my eyes
Will ravage ruin Beauty and Life.
Only Death will be alive to discriminate
Between the conqueror and the conquered,
Will celebrate the event on our half burnt bodies.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
Last updated July 08, 2011