by Muhammad Shanazar
Holding the hem of an old worn out dream,
We have reached a footpath.
In the callous streets
Of the hilarious city
Making the atom bomb
Keeping begging bowls in the hands
And arms on the fore-heads
We are dormant all oblivious.
Amid the fodder
And the crop of swaying starvation,
Our tossing children
Sleep every day
On the worn out carpet of patriotism,
Tasting the flowing salt of their eyes
And licking the long-ranged missiles.
Long lurking militant tongues
Are bent to represent the weapon-adorers.
Who is the ambassador of Freedom?
Our skills are consumed,
In always chiseling the weapons,
Yes; Science is killing us all.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
Last updated June 24, 2011