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Living Trophies

On their way to school
Carrying dreams of future
In their book bags
Kids grow into old man
Their prattle
Like tiny butterflies
Continue to live.

Of dreams and their interpretations
Of brightly lit hands
And happy lines of fate
Folks seperate from us
Their memories
Continue to live.

In the eve-time loneliness
In the head-splitting deep gaze
Like withering dreams
Scenes get blurred
Glued to the path - eyes
Continue to live.

In the empty spaces of life
In the courtyards of
Waning sunlight
Holding medals of valour
And defeats
Mothers of slain war heroes
Continue to live.

Poets
Writing on scraps die
Their poems
Continue to live.

(Translated from the original Urdu by Satyapal Anand)

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