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Comments about Pramithas Dhakal
Today I Write Not A Song Of Despair
Or those sad sonnets,
Which are as gloomy as the gloom they sing.
Today I write about the dusty roads to my home
Where I meet those
Ever cheerful dogs,
With unwell but innocent eyes.
Today I write about the pleasant rain
That comes amidst hot summer days,
A flower that springs among the rocks,
And the scent that comes to meet me at my window
From a factory nearby.
Today I write about the hope of a dying youth
That vanishes like the dew
Before the sun ever peeks over the horizon.
That first smile of child,
That first gush of wind ...