The side of war that is usually endured in silence... No matter on which side, on which front: the suffering is not with the rulers who think they have to wage war. The suffering is with the bereaved mothers!
The side of war that is usually endured in silence... No matter on which side, on which front: the suffering is not with the rulers who think they have to wage war. The suffering is with the bereaved mothers!
Indeed!
It's heartwrenching...
In our language urdu and punjabi poets have written verses and verses to describe this pain. A mother's pain, a beloved's hurt! One such song by sufi Tabassum sung by our legendary singer Madam Noor Jehan always brings tears to my eyes:
Aeh puttar wikaoo cheez nai
Aeh puttar wikaao cheez nahi
Mull de k choly pae nai
Aeh aidda sasta maal nai
Kitton ja k mang liyae nai
Aeh sodda naqad vi nai mil da
Tu labbdi phirain udhar kurray
Aeh puttar hattan tay nai wikday
Translation: (the singer says to bereaved mother)
These sons of soil are not for sale
These sons of soil are not for sale
How do you assume you will get them in exchange for peanuts?
It is not something inexpensive
How can you ask someone for it (him)
This commodity can't be bought for money
And yet you (mother) are so naive that you looking/wandering here and there, asking for it as a lend (you want to borrow them)
These sons of soil are not for sale
I tried to translate it as eloquently as I could...
Didn't find a single translation on internet. I hope you get the lyrics...
... it's tragic: I think all languages have these kind of lyrics for some reason.