Aftab Alam (15 th April 1967 / PRASTOLI, DORANDA, RANCHI, JHARKHAND, INDIA)
Don’t say humanity lost glory and dignity!
Perhaps thought is on the lap of infirmity.
Caste, creed and religion, the guard we keep,
Our bleeding wound, dear brother, so deep.
Pretty good, I desire for golden sun rise,
Lay on thorn but dreams for flower wise.
Wrapped with foolishness, we blinded bleed,
Innocent are killed or strangled indeed.
Till we keep mouth closed and eyes laden with tear,
Days are not far, all will be robbed, is it clear?
O wingless desire, where shalt thou brew?
Here, I am in search of peace, where ye flew?
Take me; please take me from darkness to light,
Show me; show me the straight path, here I fight.
Salamun- salamun, ‘O Lord’! I recite,
Eyes are closed, my lips are so tight
(Salam in Arabic peace, so the salamun)
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