In the lap of baby-hills
Where the green grasses grow
Where God makes nature’s show
Where we find ancient fossils.
The sacred land of holy altar
Of a God-fearing priest
To whom even bowed the beast
There stands my school; heart ajar
The flower of strivers’ garden
Who offered it their blood,
Till, with bloSsoms, did it flood
And, with letters, honoured the nation.
My school, the house of knowledge
My school, the place of worship
And the carriage for intellectual trip
And the conveyer of God’s message.
My school, my love, my pride
For my career, is a certain guide
May it blossom till the last day
Giving the best in its best way.
Khan Hasnain Aaqib
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem