A Dusk In Nepal (At Returning From There) Poem by Mohammad Muzzammil

The sun calls back of its rays,
And ready to go far behind,
Birds and cattle are on their ways,
To reach home before the day turns blind,
A lark comes and claspes its nestling,
With my friends I see at the road,
Rolled down eyes pearls, I kept on smiling,
I miss my mother badly in abroad.

It gets dark, wild, bitterly winds blow,
And this cause the cold to grow,
By and by we make our pace slow,
And into a creeping bus in a row,
My emotions let me on my fancies fly,
All of sudden, I unwell vomit twice,
Once at a man whom to aside I try,
But journey has been certainly nice.