" ابابیلیں نہیں آئیں " یہ کیسی ساعتیں …

What kind of hours have passed, what kind of disasters have come
Dad the bulls had to come, the swallows didn't come
What kind of pride was this of mine, what a happy thought it was
That was the story of sorrow and that was the story of sadness.
The swallows had to come, the swallows did not come
Somewhere burning tents and somewhere extinguishing humans
Somewhere the world is looted and somewhere scattered goods
Karbala was a long visit to the land of Karbala.
The house of unarmed helpless was dark.
There was a rain of blood from the sky on the earth.
Somewhere it was a poor evening, somewhere it was night
What kind of hours have passed, what kind of disasters have come
The swallows had to come, the swallows did not come
Somewhere small bodies used to burn in flames, they used to suffer
Somewhere daggers used to descend in the burning womb of mothers.
Somewhere there was Umm Saleema, somewhere Bilquis and Rehana
That even the stones became wet after listening to the nose whose story
What kind of hours have passed, what kind of disasters have come
The swallows had to come, the swallows did not come
Dark night says don't be disappointed
The morning is in my feet, the stars are in my veil.
That after this there are only light in the world
Don't be disappointed if the swallows don't come