The Antiquarian Poem by Jamshaid Baloch
The Antiquarian
The wall is decked with swords and guns
With shields of old, and helms forlorn
And daggers, spears, and arrows, all
that sing of soldiers, dead and gone
Below the high and mighty wall
There is a chair that holds a man
Who used to look around himself
And smile at history preserved
But now he lies bereft of life,
A dagger deep inside his heart
belonging to the holy wars,
Of which he has become a part
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/29/2026 1:02:35 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
