The apple orchard in Swat
Oh, apple orchard in Swat, to me, you are pretty much alive.
Oh, apple orchard of Swat!
Are your apples as sweet,
Your atmosphere as pungent,
As the aroma of apples soon to ripen?
Did military boots,
Honour your sanctity?
Or are you a picture of depravity,
As I am now?
Are the trees still standing,
Steadfast against the horror,
Imposed on them,
Have they had enough time to blend,
To the new environment,
Like we humans do?
I am sorry, oh, apple orchard,
Because I have behaved like I was,
Okay with what you have become.
But do you know,
That I am sane enough?
Or is it my insanity,
That I would give forever,
To roam amongst thy sleepy hollow?
And thy fairy tales?
Oh, apple orchard in Swat,
To me, you are pretty much alive,
And I have ever since embraced,
Like you embraced me,
Oh, apple orchard in Swat!
My apple orchard in Swat!
This post originally appeared here.
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