I am speaking from the grave beyond,
Looking at the picture of the country,
I am digging from near the same grave,
I thought I was killed without being able to fulfill my dream for the country,
Scattered on the ground near the same grave, my dreams are also speaking,
Beetles are hovering over the country like that black cloud above the blue sky.
Those unfulfilled dreams are hovering over my body,
I am shouting from that distant tomb,
Those eyes wet with tears,
Those tired steps that came from traveling abroad carrying the dream of country..
And the lips that have dried up from my grave,
I am tearing the country from that grave.
The fire that burned me may not have consumed me as much as it does today when I look at the state of the country.
I am looking at the country from that grave,
I am speaking from that distant tomb.
I look for a moment, I take a deep breath, tears begin to fall in sorrow,
These falling ashes dry up without reaching the ground,
I am weeping, remembering the country in that distant tomb.
Today I see a young man from the grave
Looking back tomorrow,
the same young man is leaving the country and heading for the Gulf, carrying the dream of a foreign country.
I think I see another dream coming in a box,
Another tomb is still being built next to my tomb,
I’m waiting for that box from the same grave,
I am speaking for the country from the same grave.
Lok Joshi is English poetry writer of Nepal