I tell them to listen,
The cries of the mother who
Sings no lullabies anymore.
I tell them to watch,
The tears of the Father trickling
down the weltered face.
I tell them to hear,
The silent wails of the wives
who lost the reason of singing ballads.
I tell them to witness,
The innocence of the children
Who still wait for their Dad.
The chinar sheds leaves like tears
On the unknown bodies that lie
Buried under her shade.
The Dal has lost her purity
And charm to the thousands of
corpses of kids floating inside.
The mountains,who have died
inside witnessing the crimes
against humanity.
The birds that stopped singing
the songs of love and joy
to the streams hushing with blood and tears.
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