The Infants Poem by Mohammad Mohi Uddin

The Lambs are mourning-
Knowing babes' blood is the soul target of the thirsty weapons.
Darkening kids' glittering fortune-
We dream of the profit in the infernal workplaces.
Their playgrounds are transformed into war museum; the relics of cruelty;
Their school yards are set for only privileged; the tokens of commerce.

Kiddies' tear is floating in the air
Breeds' hunger is echoing from Africa
Orphans' misery is voicing the Minaret
Babies' melancholy is ringing the Bell

Don't spread the obscurity like a black-hole
Don't spin the net of death like a huntsman
As children are the Shepherds; future torch bearers of the Nations.

The Lambs are laminating to Mose, Muhammad, Jesus
To rescue their fellows!
All Mosques
All Temples
All Prayer Halls whisper-
"Children dwell in Heaven; kin of Almighty
Before worshipping God feel them as-
All are your sons."