5th February, 2002O' horrible field of Kashmir, Your lap,
full of blood, bone plastered in your map.
You, sometimes called crown of India.
But your misfortune, heard in the media.
No evening, your news, out of listen,
your rest hangs in two countries' question.
Won't your good days gift You a shake,
for how many days, your bad time take.
Committing what, your land suffers,
well, is it your previous birth's curse.
O' common man, you, heartless and crude,
are you deaf towards it's sorrowful mood.
For how many days, you'll tyrannize,
Kashmir's unfortunate and innocent eyes.
A life fears here like a boy near a snake.
Despite it's beauty hangs around the lake.
From the don of morning, to the deepest darkness,
death's fearing eyes cause silence.
God! You, the creator and destroyer,
is Kashmir's constant cry missing your ear?
Can You teach both country's common,
not to divide the beauty but to learn.
Today, Kashmir tires to hold the bodies,
shut down by guns of either countries.
Continuation of such may cause man,
setting of this innumerable Beauty's Sun.
I pray God, Kashmir's mother,
take It out of reach of the destroyer,
place It on the land of heaven,
and let Man quarrel in the ugly ocean.