All places holy Remind me How lonely I am How lonely I’ve been All these years, For millenniums. Out of me, Grew temples and tombs, The weeds of my soul. Now taller than me, Blocking the sun. My existence is a pilgrimage, From nowhere to nowhere. * Lahoot La’makaan is a holy shrine in ...
Stay put Time Thee move too much! Sometimes I wonder what is time made of When I was a child everyone said time never waits I always wondered why won’t it wait When I grew more Time kept ageing But never grew old I have never met Time But all this time, I’ve had a ...
The day we left We left a full moon behind On a pitch-black sky Highlighting the farthest stars and the whole Milky Way and beyond Sprinkled over the wildness of darkness like snow The day we left We left few more things behind The remains of an old fort Been there since the beginning ...
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 robes from end to end ...
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 by bit crammed all the ...
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 of doing In the streets ...
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*. Days passed by and Saalaan ...
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 there was no sign of ...
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 the office told him there ...
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 brother for a piece of ...
