My Battered Soul Poem by Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar

No word I’ve depicted
for my battered soul
snared inside your soul
yearning to get out of it
like the script of my poem
of the languished agony
burst out of my heart
in a piece of the course paper.

Not known to me,
if my eyes blinded
or freshly awakened,
my longing for fits of passion,
fragrances of the flower
and the rustlings of the heartbeat
swept me far, far away to the place
I never have been to,
where no other, but silence muses.

My soul, aloof and hidden, is
shattering, with fresh scratches
all over the skins of the earth,
and vanished in the darkness
af the dark night soaked with tears.

Moon, not being aware of any sorrow
in its absence, consoles
by showing the deep scratches
in its face -
It’s indeed the inner feeling
of my battered soul.

September 15th 2005