Sons, my native land has sons <br />born on soil <br />barren and rocky and lone <br />for ages lone <br />across the gaping wilderness tear <br />ruthless winds and torrents of pain <br />sweep in epochs. sweep them out. <br /> <br />Sons of mountains <br />radiant petals of jasmine gay <br />specks of time-less age-less rocks <br />elegant, fair and tender moulds <br />lumps of leathern coarsened hearts <br />damned by sun and wind and time <br />dashed from tops. they seek a home <br />lost in dust beneath their feet <br /> <br />On a heap of squalid unscrubbed pans <br />immersed in simmering scalding water <br />the toiling sweating hands do seek <br />the blessed home <br />for ages they have thought and dreamed. <br /> <br />In towns flourshing <br />along the banks of mountain brooks <br />stays a-while <br />a fleeting cloud of gloom....... The Home! <br />and from an urban sheeted roof <br />curls into waves of trailing smoke. <br /> <br />The brook is limpid murmuring gold <br />the smoke is trailing meandering gold <br />the killers are killers <br />of conscience grace and candid souls <br />if ever they marked <br />the wave of anguish <br />a dash, a span <br />among the torrents of water and sweat <br />the rocks in hearts <br />the dark sinister rocks would fall. <br /> <br />(Translated from Urdu By Balraj Komal, Posted By Anila A.)<br /><br />Majeed Amjad<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poem-44/
