Thursday, March 26, 2015



I am a strike-through man
Like a fishing pole of a boy
Fishing near by a stream
Running across a calm and quiet village.

For a living,
I've striven up and down.
Though I'm a Buddhist,
I've committed killing.

Though I couldn't define lying,
I understand it falsehood.

Sometimes, I recite holy verses
With a broken heart, by many injuries,
In defeat of love-war.

Understand or misunderstand
I don't know,
Though I was not meditating,
Attaining equanimity I left home.

I remembered my mother
Just when I got sick
And wished a bowl of chicken-soup.

I intruded into the revolutionary area
Which means web-knob of problems for me.

Fighting for the truth,
I don't know what is the true doctrine.
Losing and searching
Searching and losing
Compassing or encompassing
I've been a guerilla.

Practicing non-Violence,
Angers are mounting in my heart
Like a Volcano just to erupt.

The enemy is very strong
And I don't even have a needle.
Trying to find out solutions
To the political puzzles,
I couldn't solve my living.

Contradiction and Antagonistic
I couldn't distinguish,
Though I've a degree on my shoulder.

Slandering the weakness of the others,
I quarrel with many persons.
Criticizing the others
And armoured myself very well,
I onslaught them with my spear-tongue.

Though I recite many times,
One verse of Lord Buddha
That says, "It's easy to see
Minimum of others' faults
And hard to see
Maximum of his own",
I still can't read it by heart.

I've not yet given up,
For the coming battle,
I'm ready.

K. Kyaw

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