Sunday, November 28, 2010

The dead rose. (a poem); Ajaya Dhungana

The dead rose.

I was far away,

Neither I found my destination,

Nor I tried to get it,

It was totally black,

But I don't know why,

There may be enough reasons,

But, non of them satisfied me,

Because, I was soundless,

I was sense less,

I look far away, but

I was unable to see anything,

I was unable to hear anything,

Even my sixth sense organ

was also working properly.

Actually, I was far away,

Where I can get the sum of zero,

Like inside a vacuum,

Carrying nothing,

Getting nothing,

And also the desire of nothing,

It passed many days,

Weeks, months, and many years,

Filling the eyes with only tears,

Up to when I was moral less,

Senseless and feeling less,

My sense and feeling,

Had gone far away from me,

With the red signal of that train,

Till now I am waiting that train,

But, it became many and too much,

That train did not return,

And neither signaled to return,

But also I am waiting,

Waiting, waiting and waiting,

Just waiting,

With a bundle of rose in a hand,

Because she was also in that train,

Today I found the entire rose in my hand are dead,

I am with the dead rose,

Probably, I will also be killed,

How the rose died,

Because today, I got her message,

That she won't return anymore.

Ajaya Dhungana
written on 7/16/05

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