A Land That Refuses to Vanish

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In the dawn, your mountains breathe in gold,

Wind hums through date palms and ancient stones,

Camels move like verses across the sand,

And the desert listens to your songs.


Rivers whisper old legends to the earth,

Women laugh beside wells of memory,

Stars rest low on nomad tents at night,

Peace sleeps gently in the land of patience.


But suddenly-the silence breaks.

The sand remembers blood, not rain.

Footsteps vanish, voices are buried,

And the mountains learn the language of grief.


How long will the earth drink tears,

Before justice flows like water?

How long will children inherit fear,

Instead of stories, songs, and dreams?


Did freedom ever smile here,

Or was it always postponed?

Did history listen when you cried,

Or only write power’s lies in stone?


Yet still-your spirit does not die.

From wounded soil, courage rises.

From broken hearts, truth speaks louder.

From darkness, a fierce hope is born.


Let the mountains stand as witnesses,

Let culture burn like a guiding flame.

Balochisthan will not forget itself-

It will rise, carrying pain into light.

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