The Bulbul Sings To The Fowers (A Garden Is Our Land) Poem by Ghulam Ahmad Mahjoor

The bulbul sings to the flowers:
'A garden is our land! '

The hyacinth says to the violet,
'Why are you hiding thus?
Come down from the woods to the garden! '
A garden is our land!

Like walls of white marble,
The mountain peaks enclose
A sunny space of emerald green.
A garden is our land!

The early spring has come again
And camped on mountain heights,
And tulips blow in Shalamar.
A garden is our land!

The sweet gift of spring
To fountains, rivulets, streams
And waterfalls is music.
A garden is our land!

Colourful flowers bloom
In gardens and on hill and dale,
In forests, ravines and river banks.
A garden is our land!

Blossoms are everywhere
In orchards and on hills,
And drunken sings the bulbul:
A garden is our land!

Mahjoor, our motherland
Is the loveliest on earth!
Shall we not love her best?
A garden is our land!