The days of the year into nights br The evenings into solace for burdens br Long days when reapers would cut gold br On earth and tilling the land with horse br Waiting for the season the damsels br Lovers would long to reap their fruit br One day reddened by sun the earth br The trees giving cold shelter br Sweat flowing down the bosom br In sweet aroma with nature br From the earthen pot when drank br Water from deep the well of love br Desires were raw with shine in eyes br Emotions were not put in fire to mould br The human habitation perhaps needs br No learning further than the one br With drawn swords the men br Women’s wrath for the young br Money is the other name of god br Some worldly comforts at least br The self contained economy br In the village now seek br Capital in surplus for the class br The struggle is for the machine br Shiny houses of bricks gaudy br The respectable ladies now hide br Reapers of the past in freedom br Now captive of the present in wealth br 2042009br br Sadiqullah Khanbr br