Meanwhile in Kathmandu
You have been to many temples,
There is nothing more left to do.
Now walk slowly the endless streets,
Escaping the dust and dirt and shit.
Both coexist—Gods and Demons;
Do not disturb their old slumber.
Calm as children in deep slumber,
The mountains dream above the temples.
Some people here live like Demons—
Mean and selfish, what makes them do
Nothing but eat and pray and shit?
You might run into them in streets.
Be careful while crossing the streets,
The bikes move as if they’re in slumber.
Rules of traffic? They don’t know shit!
The Gods tremble in their temples,
Thinking what the mad traffic can do
To any but the bloody Demons.
The Bagmati runs, the Demons
Dance all over the muddy streets—
What more is there for them to do?
The monks chant their hymns in slumber;
The prayer wheels run in the temples.
You’ll have to bear a lot of shit,
When almighty Gods take their shit.
The earth shakes and breaks, the Demons
Fly away to the nearest temples,
Huddle together off the streets.
Ganja-numbed, they go back to slumber;
They always do what they have to do.
You’re here, do you know what to do?
Eat lots of buff momos, and shit.
Drink hooch and fall into slumber.
When awake, call all the Demons,
March along the blasted Freak Streets,
Make booze and whores your new temples.
Now let me slumber with the Demons—
I do require dead silence. Shit!
Who’s shouting in streets by the temples?
Poetry by Bibek
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Written on 2018-07-03 at 13:35
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