~Chanky Shrestha ‘Avaya’~
They pierced here
with a solemn dusk
and murdered my dream at the moment
when I was exessively passionate to it
When I wrote a rebellious poem in return,
they obliterated it
as the duster erases white letters on blackboard
After the murder of my dream and my poem
which, in a real sense, was murder of my soul
I wrote my tragic history with my own blood
In return, they chopped me
and erased my history with my own blood
The erased history
kept me caressing
But no one wrote yet the story of the erased history
(Translated from Nepali by the poet himself)
(Source : Suskera.com)
