Home (A Ghazal)
Come and listen to the ode, yelling about the ruination of my city,
I can't creep an inch outside my skin, they have shackled the salvation of my city
The fountain of my heart has shrivelled, and birds of the cage have lost feathers,
The spring no more utter a melody, but waits for the consolation of my city
Songs of that Cuckoo, singing on the branches of Chinar, do you remember?
Or you are too crushed the mirror of memories with the extinction of my city!
The songbirds and nightingales seated on the branches have lost the tongue,
They no more sing the songs of love and glory but hums about the alienation of my city
Moon now rises under the shades of darkness and the sun faints at noon,
The lamp which once lightened the ruins, waits for the resurrection of my city
No more home, no more homeland but pure silence which seldom sings,
Fewer praise poems, pure emptiness and lost perception of my city
My soul has become a roving stranger, roaming in search of home.
Walk through the deserted meadows and witness the desolation of my city.
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