Liaquat Ali Khan


1895-1951
The man from Karnal,
Far away from his home,
To his chosen land
In silence, in the mausoleum

Once alive, with hope and freedom
Served he well for the cause
Noble and dignified
The poor man’s voice
The old story,
Of days of the ration through
To the nights at work
Strange were those days,
The new country and its problems
Left all behind but himself and the cause

As he travelled through the journey
From the inns of London to the bazaars
Of Pindi, there lived a man,
In his means and of all what he received
Begins the journey of hope
Of all he had, of all he carried
The torn clothes and the feet covered in rags
The finest quality, the last of the friends
We once had, the last of the moments
The Khan Liaquat Ali Khan, the famous son
Lost to the days of darkness and its inquest

Forever, now quiet, in the mausoleum
From the days of the struggle and its adventure
To the moments of our freedom and his martyrdom
There lived a man, forever smiling
You may have forgotten but I haven’t
Friends we were in life, friends we are in death
Two of us in this mausoleum, you and me
And this emptiness inside and the frenzy outside
Wish we were alive, wish we were strong!

Tribute from Quaid-e-Azam (Mohammed Ali Jinnah)

Kashkin

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