Would that I were a free bird!
It would not need any passport,
To have a flight from one sky to the other;
My nose smells the stench,
Of explosives hidden in the earth,
And I snoop foot steps
Of the secret agencies chasing behind.
I have inherited the tradition
To love in response of hatred,
That I intend to transmit
To the next generation with full sincerity.
In the civilized world the war is prohibited,
But the guardians of peace,
Have especially granted us the permission of war.
Our seasons,
Children,
Literature,
And traditions,
Every thing is ready to turn into ashes.
O! My beloved
Let us shed tears for those roses,
Which are destined to wither soon,
I smell love emitting
From light yellow-pale skin of your body.
Get a last glimpse of me,
With the eyes resembling Lily-flowers,
For my wrist is in the clutches of Death
And I won't say anything to you
Because my very poems are my will.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem