That Village Isn't Ours Anymore! Poem by Aadil Hingorjo

See, the sea is smiling to us
And the sand too is calling us.
But our people are thirsty of our blood.
We want to return there.
But we won't return there.
That village isn't ours now.
They've demeaned us, comrade;
Their tongues have torn us
People there have panicked us so much
A lot they have hurt our gene
They'll go on killing us;
We'll be stabbed to our spirits there
They've already injured us a lot.
Strange bullets cross our souls
I think, we're living dead, love!