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Shadows on the wall

When the king is dead When the fire is lit When the skies are bloodshot red The clown will dance A dance of the dead Sowing seeds with as many hands Seeds from which only tomb stones grow     The clown will dance Till the skies are covered in dark …

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You didn’t come last night either

Fazal Baloch has translated Taj Baloch’s poem from Balochi.   The moonlight Adorned herself and kept singing till dawn But you didn’t come The desperate moonlight Buried all memories, hues and shades, and smiles In the bosom of the earth in a vast plain Every thorn of sun-shade shrubs Bit …

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The children of Aleppo

  Death is no longer a horror Life is Life which is dragged around the streets of Aleppo Eyes wide open Half dead, half alive Half awake, half asleep   In times when hate is the only desire inhabiting hearts Men find themselves incapable of believing what fellow men are capable …

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Why does the moon look so beautiful?

This story about a man who doesn’t know how to laugh is originally penned down by Naguman. Fazal Baloch has translated it from Balochi for our readers.   On the very day of our first wedding anniversary, my wife gave birth to a baby boy. Thus we named him Saalaan*. …

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Who’ll write my story?

This short short story by A R Daad has been translated by Jalil Baloch from Balochi.   At the back of the door, on a wall, the old man had written the date and month of his arrival. “I am the youngest son of Saalaar. The day I came here …

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Hasan Sòl

A R Daad short story Hasan Sòl is a modern parable. Fazal Baloch has translated it from Balochi.   Even after much medication and treatment, the lamp of his fate refused to glow. His wife had also tried everything she had been told could be helpful. One day, a colleague at …

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I’m indifferent

This poem was originally penned down by Hafeez Rauf in Balochi.   I’m indifferent to the ups and downs of the world. I had said, What if the sky crumbles into the earth! What to me! To me what! What if someone slaughters someone! What if a brother kills a …

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Something will always be left behind

I was about to leave for the graveyard when he entered my room and stood behind the door. He looked pale, so weak that only his head was visible. “I won’t go there. The sun is searing and there aren’t even any trees,” he said as I wore my shoes. …

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The world

Fazal Baloch translates Munir Momen’s poem, zamanag, we publish the other day.    Every night, The world yells some filthy abuse, At my solitude, And runs away out of the window. But it cannot travel beyond the city. Every morning, I’m the first to bump into it. Oblivious of its abuse and my solitude, It …

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Utter helplessness

This poem, was e bewasi, by Atta Shad has been translated from Balochi by Fazal Baloch. God, O God! Where is that world? That heaven and the earth? Where is the dark dawn that should lead to daylight? Those flower-studded stars, the bright moon? Where is that inner tipsy ambience? The …

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