This time again,
The Meteorological Department
Has announced that
Current will the weather
Of our separation.
The mountains will not receive
Any lightening,
Canals will not flow,
Rivers will be dry,
And our fields will be naked
Like our children.
Thirst will rest upon our lips
And hunger will be based
In our bellies.
Our trees will be at the mercy
Of fiery winds
And the scattered bones
Of our dead animals,
Over sandy boulders,
Will emerge in the newspapers
Preventing the visits
Of foreign tourists.
The bloody vampire of death
Will dance naked in our towns.
Our ancestors, the vagrants
For generation
After generation,
Will carry their children
And move to the fertile lands
To save the lives of their youngers
And
You and me
Woudn't meet
Till the advent of rainy seasons.
This time again,
The meteorological department
Has announced that
Current will the weather
Of our separation.
Translation from Sindhi: Adil Omar
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem