Originally written by Altaf Sakhi in Balochi & translated into English by Ali Jan Maqsood
یات
مرچی پُریں دو سال ات کہ آ چہ لوگءَ دراتکگ ات…..بلے آ هچ بر چو ملُور نہ ات چو کہ مرچی آ چو ملُور ات……شپ چو مرچی گشے هما رنگءَ دراج ات چو گشے پیشیگ ایں شاهر ءِ نہ کٹوکیں شهرے ءَ…….
دُراهیں هلک ءُ میتگ واب ات………بلے آئی ءِ شپ ءَ گشے نوکی وتی بانزُل ایر داتگ اِت آں ءُ گشے نوکی روچ ایر بُکیتگ اَت….همے رنگ ءَ کُلّیں مهلوک ءَشپ سهب کُت ءُ هرکس دیم پہ وتی منزلءَ رهادگ بیت بلے آئی ءِ شپ انگت هما شپ ات گشے کہ روچ نہ بوت…..
Memory
It was complete two years that he had left [from] home. But he was never this sad before as he was today. Today the night appeared long like an epic poem by an ancient poet.
All the village was asleep, but it appeared his night has just arrived and the sun has recently set.
Similarly, everyone passed their night into day and headed towards their destination. But it was still night for him which did not pass into day.
