This poem was translated by Professor Carlo Coppola as part of the MULOSIGE Translations project. You can explore our collection of Urdu Poetry here.
Falast̤ı̄nı̄ bacce ke liye–lorı̄ / For a Palestinian Child–Lullaby
Don’t cry, my child,
Don’t cry; your mommy,
weeping before, now sleeps;
.
Don’t cry, my child;
A little bit ago
your daddy
took leave from his grief.
.
Don’t cry, my child;
Your brother,
chasing his butterfly dreams,
has gone off to a far-away land;
.
~~~
.
Don’t cry, my child;
your sister’s wedding carriage
has left for a foreign place.
.
Don’t cry, my child;
in your courtyard
the sun is getting its final bath,
the moon, its grave.
.
Don’t cry, my child;
should mommy, daddy, brother, sister,
sun and moon see those eyes of yours,
then they’d all cry the more for you.
Maybe if you smiled,
someday all of them
—in disguise—
will come back to you to play.
Beirut ∙ 1980
.
From:Mere dil mere musāfir (My Heart, My Traveller). Karāci: Maktabah-yi Dāniyāl. 1981. pp. 63 – 65
Don’t cry, my child,
Don’t cry; your mommy,
weeping before, now sleeps;
.
Don’t cry, my child;
A little bit ago
your daddy
took leave from his grief.
.
Don’t cry, my child;
Your brother,
chasing his butterfly dreams,
has gone off to a far-away land;
.
~~~
.
Don’t cry, my child;
your sister’s wedding carriage
has left for a foreign place.
.
Don’t cry, my child;
in your courtyard
the sun is getting its final bath,
the moon, its grave.
.
Don’t cry, my child;
should mommy, daddy, brother, sister,
sun and moon see those eyes of yours,
then they’d all cry the more for you.
Maybe if you smiled,
someday all of them
—in disguise—
will come back to you to play.
Beirut ∙ 1980
.
From:Mere dil mere musāfir (My Heart, My Traveller). Karāci: Maktabah-yi Dāniyāl. 1981. pp. 63 – 65
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