Shaman's Thoughts Poem by Nawa Raj Subba

Hi, poem!
Are you just a top-tier entertainer?
Why are you obsessed with flowers,
desire, youth, intoxication, or abstraction?
Why do you prefer difficult to simple language?
Do you know where you were born?
Who were you born for, and why were you born?
Have you thought about it?

Oh, my beloved contemporary poet!
In the poem, you draw your girlfriend's face.
You fill the composition with the shape of your hungry desire.
Have you ever heard a marginalized witch's cries?
Have you found Santhal's song, Chepang, who lost his homeland on Earth?
Have you shown concern about the suffering of Rohingya and Bhutanese refugees?
Have you painted Corona Covid-19's cry?
Did you witness the people's hopes of being washed away by floods yearly?
The author has gone missing. compose a biography about the landslide-affected family
How can a nacked painting of a star be seen from an earthquake-damaged house's roof?
My emotion is the universe, and my self-reflection is agony.
Flowers make you emotional, and you fall in love with nature.
But that enjoyment is exclusively meant for you.
Yes, you understand what I mean.
And you cultivate letters solely for your self-gain.

Yes, I am an old model
An integral character of ancestors, the Shaman
In simple language, I am your neighbour, Dhamizhakri
You don't know me yet
I am a poet of an ancient poetic nature
I am the soul's and the entire world's light.
I frequently visit the soul, and spirit is my daily routine.
I have a habit of talking to them
I compose songs, I sing, but that is not mine
I play music and dance, not for fun
Just to take away the pain of others
I play poetry and poetry.

You rejoice in your joy.
I delighted in the happiness of others as an achievement
You tell your own story
And you do it for your benefit
You win prizes; you seek to honour
I don't expect that
I have the art of living life to teach
The victim's family has a sad heart
In joy and rhythm above selfishness and selfishness
I connect with the world by singing the song of soul
When you're scratching something for fun
When you are selfishly singing a sweet song
While celebrating poetry in the group
While clapping in every poem
I said here
In the rhythm of the heartbeat
Pulling a long sigh of sigh
Revolving around the sad soul
I'm worried
I'm looking for a fortune
Of a suffering Man.

Forgive me
O poet who chases after name and value
I don't need any name fragrance
I don't even have to do it for the sake of honour
Although I have swollen eyes
Science has performed the surgery
Now I see life and the world clearly
I don't prescribe any witchcraft
I will not allow them to be unjust anymore.

A man arrived here with the spirit of my song Song
and poetry have become witnesses of the soul,
and my epic has linked the past and the present.
Remember, as long as there is a soul,
I will dwell on Earth.
Tell me nothing about your pen;
I don't mind because I'm still living.
I am confident that I have never used selfish ink.