He Who Was Living Is Now Dead
What he concluded and
Witnessed before death
"Everyone lives here, for himself."
The snow covered identity of mountain
Reality is always reverse of
What is expressed and exposed.
Those who were dead,
Are never remembered
If someone display memory of
Ceased person, that might be,
To feed his own personal interest.
The spring always snatched credit of
Showering dried earth from
The black cloud, helpless poor.
It is worthless to think
To leave a meaningful legacy
Before you die.
Everyone attempts to revive himself
Not you and me.
Once we were alive, now dead.
Scattered pieces of bone do
Carry identity of none.
Composed by Tulsi Shrestha
@copyright reserved
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A well crafted piece...........10+