The Cuckoo's Cry in Boulevard.

The straight, black, and a beautiful highway,
Streched over the extreme in south belt of Sindh,
The motherland which feeds all for the years.

The lined up trees laden with ripening mangoes,
With sweet smell all along the black roads,
Fostering in minds the the season of joy and jubilation.

The birds flying with pleasure and joy un-hesitantly.
The Cuckoo's cry is such a sharp and strong enough,
To call the fostering mothers to feed at their nests.  

The red pheasants, the green parrots, and peaceful,
Grey doves along with the black long tailed cuckoos,
in their nests, indicated the arrival of spring season.

The wild flowers, the green grasses, and the bushes,
Moving here and their, up and down in the wind,
The cuckoo's cry again and again has jolted my mind.