And when the wind lost her breeze
And when their leaders sold their faiths
And when the flow of Indus was blocked
Folks of the Sindh, they say, mourned the whole night
But the messengers wept not
Their pens didn't stop ever
In every poet, there appeared Ayaz
In every voice, there spoke Arisar
In every march, there emerged Palijo
Every story embodied Amar Jaleel
Every word rose in Joyo's spirit
And the dreams of Syed remained alive
And Bhittai's verses rushed through their minds
And their devoted hearts subdued before Indus
Dawn, they say, versified their struggle
Such was their romance to the ancient land
They all danced to the hymns of the Indus
And the ecstatic evening paid tribute to them!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem