The season is that by the hearth (lgharai)
We blow the holy ashes, kindle fire
On sheep-skin sleep, wear wool woven
By the mother's touch, bake bread of wheat.
The season is that butter hot, from the cow,
Be molten on ‘naghan', feet heated
Bones warmed, and steamy ‘kiza',
By the tripod. A ‘sheerak', pulled over-
For a snory sleep, lost under its weight.
Sadiqullah Khan
Gilgit
October 23,2014.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem