Hem Bishwakarma

A mountain

plays a green flute

grooves a melody of trees

and sings a melancholic song

powerful poems she recites

Oh, her old-aged feelings!

sometimes, she wails

so that melts the rock–as a heart

The more, on the night of rainfall

The labourers

take a swim and douche

quench the wrath of thirst

in a pond of mountain-tears

the weather flies foreign

leaving the colourful semen

the mountain nurtures her ‘daughters’

with a lot of love and devotion

the seasons as a rapist

assaults the daughters and destroys

usually, the mountain endures

the landslides of her heartbroken

however, she retains the moon-fruiting sky

the green flute withstands, yet!

somewhere,

the mountain remains plunged into pains

in fact, she has a giant heart!