Arshid Aziz


Decrease Font Size Increase Font Size Text Size Print This Page
He snatched our Identity
now, we are in exile-
without homeland!
What worth are we?
Who shall love us, who shall love you?
Who will be courageous enough
To overlook military boots
amid abysmal darkness
And glow a candle. Of love, of hope.
Now, without address
how will we share love letters?
Who will paint your face?
All fingers have been chopped.
Who will plunge into blood?
And write your Name
to call you beloved
All lips have been sealed.
A wanderer without home,
in this gloomy night
Prisoner of might
A bird in cage.
My home, a military bunker
Stolen – under the Gun!
Now, a foreigner
tramples my native land.
I will sing on Zabarwan hills
catch the last glimpse of Tulips
and, die in your arms
We will mirror Ganta Ghar bells
that meet for separation.
A burning sensation under this mist,
eggs me to muse about the nest
Songs of bulbul will revitalize,
Dead Yemberzal again.
One day his pride will crumble
And fall like dead leaves
About our feet.
That day, Harwan will play
the beguiling melody
and the vistas of Shalimar
will greet Yousuf
And on the carpet of Nishat,
Habba Khatoon will be waiting.
The poet can be mailed at
Disclaimer: Views expressed are exclusively personal and do not necessarily reflect the position or policy of Oracle Opinions.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *