Still Life Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

O Children of my poor country!
Children with scattered traits of faces!
Children innocent since beginning!
Children sweeter than the ripe fruits!
Whenever I munch an entire loaf,
Your deficient bodies,
Undreamt dreams and callous world,
Make me shed tears of blood;
Trouble me from the core of my heart,
And envenom my each victual.

Alas! I could entrust to your delicate hands,
Such a quill which could write,
Sharper than a dagger,
And intents of the brutal could break
Into shards in an instant,
And could write your fate quite afresh.
O Children of my poor country!

Written by Sabina Riffat
Translated by Muhammad Shanazar