The Glamours Of The Past And Terrible Of The Present

The Glamours Of The Past And Terrible Of The  Present

The best place to be born in, And to spend childhood.

Gossiping in Hujra till late night,

Old and youngs were sit in front of brightest fire.

Women were telling fairy tales to kids.

Perform Attan while Dhum beats drum,

Hospitality, Jirga, love, care and simplicity was there.  

It was a peaceful land.

 

Nature was blessed on the land: Tulips, Bubrai, wild roses, orchards, Mustards 

Dancing in the cold breeze of Spring. 

Sheen Khalia were sit around Goodar,

Beneath the shade of lofty Chinar, Amulets dancing in their necks.

Fertile lands, grazing animals, 

Clouds were mercy on earth.

It was a home of birds and praising beauty. 

It was known as paradise on earth.

 

Nay Wrench! whirlwind has brought the spoiled seeds,

To the paradise land of Pashtun,

It is a poison seeds,

No one tasted it fruits rather than mourn.

The seeds are not missed at the way,

Throw in the fertile lands,

Need bloodshed rather than water. 

 

It is growing: where slumber lives.

Sun has refused to gives lights,

Clouds have decided that no shadow and rain, Where has been sowed poison in the lands.

No mercy, when it thirsts and quenches the blood of human beings.

 

Pashtuns are stranded in the cross fire,

Who is fighting or wining: do not know,

No one has been to stop them, No one brings “Zarai” for bright tomorrow.

No more sweet songs of Nightingale .

Our Paradise has been devastated.

No more lofty Chinar and earshot around on Goodar.

No one knows where to start from.

Mother tells her son. 

 

Devils has no mercy: Slaughtering humans as animals,

They are worst than beasts.

“Devils have been destroyed families like our”.

Son says mother, “ we are three”.

Mother takes a breath: turns her face and weeps,

“No, we were six members in family”.

Son says, “so, where are they?”

MY ROSE! “My heart pieces are no more.

 

You have two sisters, brother and DADA

I had a mother of four children,Alhamdulliah,  But not now shedding tears”, Mother says.

“They were carrying Khwanai (good luck sweets): Bangles, clothes,and rings,sweets,nuts, and Ghonzakhi,

With your elder sister after Eid.

They were merry and happy”, mother says

 

Bomb was blasted on the way, Many people martyred, our roses too.

It was a black day and till.

Sky was crying.

Earth was shivering.

Black informed white clouds no rain on earth.

Beasts have broken a mother heart.

Shedding tears, My ROSE! “Now we are three”.

 

Look!

Mother lap is desolated,

Filled with sorrow and sorrows.

Her ROSES clothes are painted with blood.

Beasts have broken a mother heart.

She is alone among the millions peoples.

She weeps and sobs in front of torn clothes.

 

Mother cries, O people opposed to tyranny, Stand with one who has been  oppressed.

Pashtuns are neither terrorists, nor their helper, Rather are as loving and caring as anyone else,rather more .

We hurt and feel pains as others.

No more bloodshed in the name of peace.

No one can bring peace through war.

O WORLD LISTEN!

Brings peace and freedom songs.

No more widows, orphans, and devastating families.

Throw guns to the desert!!

Become best human beings.

No more wars and detest.

Wars open wars.

Spread love and prosperity.

Open new chapter of life,

Take pen and books,

Brings peace to our motherland!

~Sana Ullah Waz