Slowly our emptiness spreads over.
Descends burdened cloud. In wrong rationale
your world is diffused. Whom
almost I embraced in affection,
considering the mood as weakness he
wanted to use me up.
Breaking good news to many well wishers
I often experienced their envy. A deep
good soul expressed doubts in whatever
news of gain. The country is fully pollutioned but why
there be so many parties, factions, Maoist agitations.
Like the emptiness slowly spreading,
stoops down over the white paper
this my ruined hand and
through it’s profuse black stains
pour out so many negative poems.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a very well expressed thoughts and feelings in a fine imagery...just wondering what is the # symbol does in your pages...