The Poetic Notebook of Mullazade Zaigham of Laulab

(1)

Your springs and lakes with water pulsating and quivering like quicksilver, the morning birds fluttering about the sky, agitated and in turmoil,O Valley of Laulab!

When the pulpit and the niche cease to re‐create Resurrections, faith then is dead or a mere dream, for thee, me and for all. O Valley of Laulab!

The songs of passionate heart depends on the instrument If the strings are lose then there is no use of that instrument O Valley of Laulab!

The Mullah’s sight has lost the light of penetrative discernment; the mystic’s wine, pure and sparkling, no longer produces frenzy, O Valley of Laulab!

A dervish whose morning lamentation may awaken the hearts of the people is no longer around O Valley of Laulab!

(2)

Harder than death is what thou call’st slavery, would that slaves understand master’s tricks;

Strange are the ways of imperialists: they allow the sounding of trumpet; but forbid resurrection.

Thy soul is weary under the stress of slavery, build niche for khudi in thy impassive breast