By Syed Mustafa Ahmad
My brothers are far away. Streets are closed and red. Springs are gone and never to come. Battles are lost and never to win. Autumns remain all time, Emotions die every time.Gloom welcomes everyone.And sadness has become fun and habit. Mothers are violent While fathers are silent.Every house has a fresh grave.Are not Kashmiris brave?We bade goodbye to our hearts.We leave our hearts in graveyards.The Sun is evident of day to day crimes.Night-long massacres are known by common Kashmiris.The Sky always is sad. A mother in Kashmir is full of sighs.