Sorrow
At this time once more,
From the depths of my coronary heart has arisen
Similar ache that had been put to sleep
Way back.
As soon as extra,
Because of the blame of mates,
It has turned to mud,
Similar debt
Paid off years in the past.
Maybe that is the attribute of us,
The stricken ones,
All these arrows that didn’t hit the goal
On the vacation spot,
We stock them embedded
In our souls,
Providing them
As a sacrifice to the beloved
Earlier than the Almighty.
Aslam Murad
The poem is initially written in Urdu, please click on right here for the Urdu Poem