Today, Urdu literature is dying.
We only know false crying.
Our gems are busy in false buying.
An honest writer is sighing.

Prem Chand had done his job.
We remain to rob.
Nida Fazli was not wearing a royal robe.
Mir Taqi Mir showed a true picture
He was the man of romantic mixture.

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Ahmad Nadeem Qasmi was an infinite structure.
He proved himself apart from the worldly architecture.
Ghalib is sleeping inside the emotions
For he worked for smart changes.

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Asrar Ul Haq Majaaz didn’t care for worldly wages.
He left us and didn’t leave any fake sages.
Aatish was the custodian of the royal grief.
His life was too brief.

Moomin distinguished a chicken from beef.
We are overexploiting the Coral reef.
Ibrahim Zauq was a ray of hope.
We are caught in a false hope.

Fahmeeda Riyaz and Tarannum Riyaz are the models
They hate the life of the fake hotels.
Professor Hamidi set the trends.
We don’t have the literature friends.

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Sayyid Shabib Rizvi is an aspiration.
He has given the Urdu literature a good contribution.
We are living the lives of an illusion
And our Parveen Shakir was not caring for fake temptation.

Let us preserve our dying heritage.
Coleridge did it by loving his heritage.

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