The soil of Pakistan has always been fertile

Born soldiers with love in their depths
It’s a land green with crops of cotton and wheat.
They are green in the fields where flutes are played
They are crops changing colors when they ripe!
They are brown when they mine the precious rocks
Silver and gold bringing smiles, sweat they wipe.
In the struggle of life they are peaceful cultivators
In the battle field their courage, valor and chivalry
Riders of steel are singular in modern warfare
In the past their courage as a blitzkrieg cavalry!
Rich in minerals where greenery lacks
Sweet folk songs when crops harvested
A land of Sufi saints and love they preach
In their folk tales it is love reflected.
The stories of love and hate run side by side
A single Kaido is always here to poison the love
Millions like Ranjha who knowingly take poison
If dead with the poison is Heer the beloved dove!

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