It's time to stay quiet.
Silently,we have to observe
The killer's artwork.
We have to be the mere speechless audience
In this festival of blood, knives, and madness.
And we will see friends forever disappearing.
And we will pass our time hearing
The footsteps of the organized gangs
Desperately burying birds' chirpings.
We have learned how to tolerate the shameful
And bitter act of undressing our daughters
In the streets of the nation's capital.
We have learned not to ask
Question about the mureded bodies of our sons.
We will observe how the killers'
Graceless, mad, and blind axes
Torment even the faraway sky.
Quietly, we will try to imagine
How cold the edges of those axes are!
writer Humayun azad
Silently,we have to observe
The killer's artwork.
We have to be the mere speechless audience
In this festival of blood, knives, and madness.
And we will see friends forever disappearing.
And we will pass our time hearing
The footsteps of the organized gangs
Desperately burying birds' chirpings.
We have learned how to tolerate the shameful
And bitter act of undressing our daughters
In the streets of the nation's capital.
We have learned not to ask
Question about the mureded bodies of our sons.
We will observe how the killers'
Graceless, mad, and blind axes
Torment even the faraway sky.
Quietly, we will try to imagine
How cold the edges of those axes are!
writer Humayun azad
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