The old mill long had closed its doors
the rotting wheel would turn no more
no grain to grind, no country stores
where old men sat, told stories, swore…
And rocks that formed the waterfall
became the playground for us all
on summer days, it beckoned, called
beneath the old mill’s rotting walls….
The chill of water, mountain-fed
awakened spirits, long since dead
where millers’ children once were fed
on banks upon which lovers wed.
And yet i hear the echoes still
where laughter of the children filled
those rotting walls upon the hill
‘twas once the home to Freeman’s Mil
Mein gurez kya karta us ke sath chalne se,
Zakham to nahin bharta raaste badalne se,
Ishrat shabana to yaar ki razaa se hai,
Yeh khushi nahin milti sirf sham dhalne se,
Aarzuu ki chingaari kab tak sulag sakti,
Bujh gaya hai dil akhir bar bar jalne se,
Zindagi ka har mohra be-rukhi ke rukh par hai,
Yeh bisaat ultey gi aik chaal chalne se,
Doobta hua suraj kya mujhe ujaaley ga,
Main chamak uthoon shayed chand ke nikalne se.
Wo ek masoom si chahat
Wo ek benam si ulfat
Wo meri zaat ka hissa
Wo meri zeest ka qissa
Mujhe mehsus hota hy
Wo mery pas hy ab b
Wo jub jub yad ata hy
Nigahon may samata hy
Zuban khamosh hoti hy
Magr ye ankh roti hy
Mein khud se poch leta hon
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