The land is mournful.

Original In Pushto by Iqbal Hussain Afkar
Translated by Syed Aadil Omer
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Our eyes are tearful,
And our hearts are grieved,
Benazir's martyred,
And the land is mournful.

People are out on the streets,
No order prevails,
If one place somewhere is uneasily calm,
People at the other are enraged,
For, Benazir's martyred,
And the land is mournful.

The voice of labourers,
And of poor, hapless people,
By whom is silenced?
What a cruelty!
Benazir's martyred,
And the land is agrieved.

Lawyers are standing up,
So are the journalists, intellectuals,
They are treading towards destination,
And have sweard for that,
Benazir's martyred,
And the land is mournful.

Your blood, that has felled,
Isn't at all unworthy,
For your voice of awareness,
Has reached to all the folks,
Benazir's martyred,
And the land is saddened.

'Pinky' you were for your father!
You were the sister of every misery stricken,
You are loved, you are adored,
By all of the nation with passion,
Benazir's martyred,
And the land is mournful.

Behind the terror, O' Afkar!,
It seems was uniform,
Of which we soon will be relieved,
With the blessing of your martyrdom,
Benazir's martyred,
And the land is tearful.