The seed of war grows well,
On the farm of hatred;
I abhor wars,
Though my victory be certain;
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Everyone who spoke truth faced a tragic end, may it not be so that you write your next poem in the prison, But I think the prison is your own self and want to confine your self in You. If the prison is you yourself I expect a very powerful next poem from you.
Habib Jalib sahab yad aa gay.