Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Escape from Death
Every evening, a tired body
With walking sticks of dejected moments
Carrying corpse of my own in shoulder
I entered the crematorium
Few hope of life is there?
I try to sense it
I see rays of little hope
I feel mild heartbeat
The door of Yamaraj has not shut down properly
I run out slowly towards life.

Translated from Nepali by Poet

1 comment:

  1. It seems that u are quite philosophical in ur approach while u write poems.
    Both life and death have been, from long time back, source of beatiful subjects to wirte on.
    Both of ur poems are matured expressions of a practical man who loved raw nature, mundane life, and simplicity of existence.
    Enjoyed reading!
    Would like to see the original Nepali versions, too!
    Keep on writing and posting those online.
    Best wishes