My Heart Is The Nest Of Dove

The wind,
Coming from the battlefield,
Pours into my ears,
The neighing of the horses.

The collective graves,
Are about o invade my cities;
And the coffin-sellers,
Look to our fresh young bodies
With avaricious eyes.
The Spider of Death is busy,
In weaving cobweb of my casualty.

O! Gravediggers,
Remove scattered hunger
From your courtyards,
For there is hustle and bustle
In the graveyard.

Come!
Let us protest on the roads
Against war;
My Readers be my witness,
I did not tarnish my pen
With the anthems of wars,
My identity,
Are the songs of peace,
My songs are digging the roots of wars,
For my heart is the Nest of Dove.

(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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