MS (25-11-1960 / Pakistan)

Thumping Sounds

Youth time dream like slipped away,
Sweet scented memories still lay,
In my mind, of childhood, of innocence.

My mother took me to the winding stream,
A slight far from the village,
To wash bed-sheets, clothes and clouts,
On the sloppy gray rocks.

Her work continued till evening,
In silence before the sun set,
Thumping sounds,
Mixed with the hooting of distant train,
Produced magical effects on the mind.
When I played on the sand,
And waded into cold clear water.

by Muhammad Shanazar

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