Time
Lonliness
stands silently with both hands tied
resting towards the wall of Time.
An air filled with one’s own bad breath
of unemployement
drifts upon a bamboo chair.
Even the doors and windows
of closed rooms
(closed future)
hasn’t fllpped their wings.
Dreams rises and bursts
in the stream of life.
With a stinking arm pit
realities are unwashed.
Imagination have not brushed up their teeth
with a colgate.
The dreamflower
arrayed in the vase of heart
droops in crisis of water.
Evry morning
a night of florishment
imperceptibly escapes.
The dirt of desires are piled up
on the shelf of chest.
At the corner of ceiting
cobwebs of poverty hangs on.
Where every happiness flies
and gets entrapped.
All wishes
are hidden
speachless
at the straps of bed।like a bedbug.
The soul
of man
walks brough a forest
in search of life.
Those hands
feel the pocket
and shivers
in a chilly cold of emptiness.
Thought
bites the brain
like asnake.
Ah!
only a barren sentimentality
survives
swallowing tablets of peotry.
(Translate by: BINOD PRADHAN)
11 years ago
