Slapped by the cruel hands of time
Discarded as a waste by everyone
And abandoned from cozy lap of fortune
Loitering was I…
In the streets of despondency
Surveying the scene of
Terror, horror, frustration
And slaughtering of expectation and hope
By the butcher of circumstances
Piercing her tender throat,
By cold and sharp knife…
When all at once, I heard a screeching noise
And mortals hovering around like bees.
Swept away by my curiosity
I reached the spot,
Pushing and crawling from the crowd
And witnessed a sight, horrific sight
A man lying half-dead,
Face smeared with blood
Hands and limbs twisted.
Then someone from the crowd whispered
He should not have done this…
He should not have done this…
I asked and asked
Who he was…
And my voice fell on deaf ears.
Ambulance came and
Victim was rushed for hospital
But was declared dead halfway.
Nurse fumbled victim's pocket
Took out an ID card
And announced…
Wangdi Gyalpo.
Then I mourned and mourned
And felt pity and joy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem