Autumn is the cruelest season

Whose seen absence leaves dead

Bring senility to blooming petals

Mauve, pale, read black they shed

Plunder birds jolly chirping

The blooming buds of land

Long-standing autumnal season

Slips Kashmir into oblivion

Plunder rope less-born wandering butt

The indivisible guest of land

Punitive autumnal wind-ghost

In Kashmir toll the bell of death

The trumpet of abyssal departure

Rap door-windows houses one by one

The long-standing oppressor

The longest hond-holding

Bull’s head-butt to death

Season of fog and dulcet fruits

Bore the pregnant savor

Of death life after death

Earth jostling on death-bed

By thirst and Pestilence

Drank the self-sip of blood

The ripened fruits falling squeezing

As executed by its born rope

Bruised by plucking nails of hand

Of its marauder and conqueror

Left bare the chasms of furrowed farm

Lord is it time! The autumn in immense

Let loose the wind to loot the tie

To rote the fruits in a cellar bin

To lay the self for eternal sleep

Thou autumn comes

The spring can be far behind

By Majid  Abbas