~Krishna Bhakta Shrestha~
Translated by Yuyutsu Sharma
I lean over my own corpse
as an old bunch-back over his own shadow;
I lean and look,
scanning with a vulture’s ariel eyes
and dripping loops
of fetid saliva
I prepare to peck out….
But what’s there in store for me
expect a wattle, an ugly lump
of red flesh dangling from a rooster’s throat …..
Empty, bleak night
like the eyes of an old hunchback,
dried up, blank, the defunct night
bending over its own being,
the darkest night when
even a firefly is unable to hide herself .
Stuffed and muggy from
the fumes and foul realizations
that clog my room.
Exasperated,
with a feverish jerk,
I stand up and rise …
Only a bamboo raises itself
bending over its own core.
Yes, in that
an emptiness erects itself …
Willingly or otherwise,
I lean over my own corpse;
I lean over and look,
scanning with a vulture’s aerial eyes,
and dripping loops
of fetid saliva, I prepare to peck out …
(Source : Drunkenboat.com)
