futuristicphilosophershark-blog

[futuristicphilosophershark-blog]

The Lost Soul

How can a writer not talk about the moon How can a poet not sing about the stars If you have been to the valley of Kaashmeer You will see, they have many other things to deal Its the blood of that martyr and the crackdown on that road And the cry of that sister who was yelling for her brother all night all night long I remember the tears of the mothers yelling after the loss of their heart every other day I have seen that father who was in the sweat all day long And on one evil night Carried the blood-stained body of his soul How can I think about the moon and write about the stars And sing about the hymns of those birds  who were chirping in the garden of Shalimar You want me to praise the blaze of that sun  Who brings the news of the loss of my dear ones How can I think about the clear water of Kupwara When all I can see  Is the mountain of the bodies  And the lakes of the blood…

[futuristicphilosophershark-blog]

The Lost Soul

How can a writer not talk about the moon How can a poet not sing about the stars If you have been to the valley of Kaashmeer You will see, they have many other things to deal Its the blood of that martyr and the crackdown on that road And the cry of that sister who was yelling for her brother all night all night long I remember the tears of the mothers yelling after the loss of their heart every other day I have seen that father who was in the sweat all day long And on one evil night Carried the blood-stained body of his soul How can I think about the moon and write about the stars And sing about the hymns of those birds  who were chirping in the garden of Shalimar You want me to praise the blaze of that sun  Who brings the news of the loss of my dear ones How can I think about the clear water of Kupwara When all I can see  Is the mountain of the bodies  And the lakes of the blood...