City’s Anthem

Noor Mohammad Lahoo

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City’s Anthem
The city is standing on its own grave
In the mirror of red blood
The glass’s pieces of its high stature
Are shattering in its shiny eyes
The city is standing on its own grave
The thirsty fingers of its gravediggers
Taking out the golden wheat,
From the mid of each wound
The city is buried up to shoulders
In the sweat of gravediggers
Its each carpenter is dancing of joy
From the edge of each coffin
Luck and money are dropping on them
The city is looking from long range
Towards its own hands
Which have been locked by fairies in a coffin
Standing side by side
Along with the large swarm of pigeons
The city cannot hand shake
The fairies have cut down its handsome lap
When there is the call of Azan and the name of God
Similarly the dark troops of the fairies appear
Like the leaves of a poplar
The heart of the city is being shaken
The city is convict and guilty
The city had cultivated the bread in its skirt
The city had fastened wheat with the crown of turban
Therefore it is imprisoned in detention of fire
The city is looking with wide open eyes
Townsmen have taken up themselves on their back
They want to escape the death
There away few ants are laughing,
Over their shaken steps
The city was hungry
The tummy was grown up on its backbone
The city is now eating out the cries of mothers
And the sorrow of that old man is nourished in its veins
The one who has taken up the coffin of his kid on the shoulder
There is a dark moonless night
In the rain of blood
The wet ground is sliding from his feet
The city wanted wake up shadows
Those sleeping in the cage of stones
The tongue of city decayed due to much cries
But the fellows of the cave did not wake up
Many seasons passed upon it
The city likewise its empty hands of cries
Have stitched with the fire
Shadows between the stones
During the sweet dream
Still squeezing the water of the pomegranates
From the chest of Houris
The city has worn the dress of the fire
Dancing with the wind
And the pictures of Gods
Still trembling on its forehead
Some unknown guest is coming
The bird’s kebab are showering from the sky
And moon slept in the dreams of city
Blossoms like aged maidens
Ashamed of virginity at home anymore
The maiden
Whose beauty smells like burned chocolate
Has drawn the corns of wheat upon her whole body
God! half of your universe
Selling its sweet kiss
In the exchange of a cold bread
Selling its warm kiss.
Noor Mohammad Lahoo
Translated from Pashto by
Barakwal Myakhel

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