O you! You're so far away, miles from your homeland, Do you even remember your country, it's crying in pain. The green flag is flying high yet the hearts are difficult to mend, With political turmoil surrounding, there is no peace even in rain. Do you remember what you've left behind, to go in the foreign land, The land that was yours, the streets that were yours, they say your name. The country understands though, it knows you, it awaits your return so grand, The soil, the winds, the things that exist here, parallel to no fame. Do you remember how old I am now, do you know how many years I have survived, O you! Living in the foreign land, know this that I miss you. Amidst all the plots and plans and sufferings, with the grace of Almighty I have thrived, My only ask will be to one day come back and grace me with the you. I am getting older now, and with every year I feel I'm becoming more frail, I'm the land of the pure, I'm Iqbal's dream, I am Quaid's mission. I've come into being, in my history you'll find many sacrifices, a bloody trail, With the sights casted up, hopes rekindled, I shall exist with the Eagle's vision. For in the words of Iqbal: Tundi-e- Baad-E-Mukhalif se na ghabra, ae Uqaab; Yeh to chalti hai tujhe uncha urane ke liye. (Don't you get frightened of these furious, violent winds, Oh Eagle! These blow only to make you fly higher) Khudi ko kar buland itna ke har taqdeer se pehle Khuda bande se khud pooche bata teri raza kya hai. (Elevate yourself so high that even God, before issuing every decree of destiny, Should ask you: Tell me, what is your intent?) - AA
