The poisonous beauty of the Arabian Sea
Invaded by rubbish, a fishermen’s boat
The city of Skardu, blinding smoke,
And the polished pink of the evening which invites itself in the sky

A torrent of desire foams at my conscience
Traveler, love on my lips is not a waterproof film
The night sublimates the crystalline coral of my voice,
Khyber Pakhtunkwa, the moons are watching us

A line of school children on their way to Skardu,
We are like the still time of the valleys
The fishermen cast their nets, the birds wait for the evening,
And the huts tremble with ill-contained love

They live on boats, and the water is not drinkable,
But angels drink it, and twist their bellies,
53,000 children die every year in impatience
53,000 souls ripped out spit out rotten water

Life is a balancing performance, a charred cloud,
And the clouds are the trapeze on which the birds perch,
Love is another scandal, an insult to the Gods
When 53 000 souls are delivered to the night