Perhaps my heart is aching,
Time and again in your waiting.
Sometimes, I feel you will meet again.
And sometimes,
These anvil clouds made the surface of my heart, to carve the dimensions of seven skies.
Portrait of love we had made for each other,
Is sinking in this dead curfew.
No doubt,
We shall meet again.
Our love will rise and will raise us as always.
Perhaps this time we will meet,
Somewhere far away, far away from this tragic land (Kashmir).
This world has given us a chance,
To be with each other; isn’t that beautiful?
Then it turned to be a cruel one,
and kept us apart.
We are in any situation proud of each other,
our memories are carved on our heart and soul, they would make this land fertile again.