There was neither electricity nor telephone anywhere
How peaceful it was in those past times
Our emotions were intact, crafted by hand
Our mothers had wool in their hands
Those distances were also a sign of love
Everyone had a true and genuine "Maim-Noon"
The one we used to go to the roof to see
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Would shine amidst the stars like the moon
Rows of trees lined the road, indeed
And we had a passion for climbing them
That laughter-filled atmosphere, that season of rains
Somewhere it was spring, somewhere it was monsoon.
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