My brothers are dead.
Streets are red.
Springs are gone.
Won battles are lost.
Autumns remain all time.
Emotions die every time.
Gloom welcomes everyone.
Sadness has become fun.
Mothers are violent.
Fathers are silent.
Every house has a fresh grave.
Are not Kashmiris brave?
We bade goodbye to our hearts.
We leave our hearts in graveyards.
The Sun is evident of day to day crimes.
Night-long massacres are known by common Kashmiris.
The Sky doesn’t see in nights.
A mother in Kashmir is full of sighs.
Kashmir is no longer “ Kashmir”.
Kashmir is no longer” Kashmir”.
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