All rivers of taste have dried up
Only sands boil in pans
Tyranny of migration has struck the towns
Birds have forsaken their nests.
Judgements descend from heavens
So it is said in books, testaments
Secrets of hearts are culpable offences
It's crime to feed at mother's breast.
''He had gone to buy a feeder
Before curfew time;
Hasn't come back.''
Kids, go to sleep
Stories, written on waters
Are narrated by winds to sails
Of sinking ships, of men in submarines
The oceans in their eyes were dry at parting
Yes, the sands of journey
Had marked all pores of the body
'' Keep Quiet ''.
Whole life-spans pass awake from sleep
A single frozen moment is difficult to pass.
The sun at the roof's height comes and goes
Come, give a call to those
Who had heard Israfael's bugle
And gone to eternal sleep on the battle front.
Their children remain awake.
(Translated from original Urdu by Dr. Satyapal Anand)
Lost childhood and lullaby … berceuse are becoming show piece of Museum…very touchy poem with humane oscillations… thanks for sharing Regards Ms. Nivedita UK 10/10
Tears, only tears speak the heaviness felt by the soul. Sorry, Sir! I started a comment, but, inspired by your thoughts, it grew into one of its own! You have described the plight of IDP's so movingly that it touches one's heart. Victims of war - inspired by Naseer Ahmed Nasir Angel
this is a very touching write indeed! ! and i wish you can write beautiful lullaby for me so i can sleep in piece! ! ! great write indeed...10++ well deserved! ! with love shashendra
Sir that was an exelent display of metaphor, so vivid, so sad, and yet so comforting as the living achevie the rapture of death.
This is wonderful. I am glad you found me so that I could find you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Some wonderfiul lines in this elegiac poem. When the song is lost, all is lost. Excellent. As always, Sandra