Thursday, March 26, 2015



The silent night was in sarcastic smile greeting him.
A black owl had come out for the preys.
The chill hand of death was knocking at the door.
“Sacrifice all your belongings”
“Try not to turn back your broken wheels”
Tears falling down on the cheeks, he stubbornly denied
To obey the call of Death in the dark midnight.

A twilight picture of a dream has faded,
And a yellowish leaf of summer had fallen down,
And the dead body on the pedestal of intoxicated power
Could no more appreciate the crying sounds.

During the summer, hot as a flame,
Forward to move was the lonely traveler.
Tired in agony of a desert-bird on a leafless tree,
Woe burning in his heart, he was alone in the wild.
No more proud in pain, the desert-bird could not know
Where to fly and where to perch.
Perhaps as the wings got tired,
He slept among the fallen leaves.


In the worldly drama, like a clue-puzzled labyrinth,
He had played in all acts.
Bitter hate, charming words, sweet fragrance,
And with a bunch of sufferings,
His feet were hesitating to move on.
Searching for a new pasture, he has wandered along,
And in thirst for beauty, he felt not the taste.

Gulping down a cup of wine,
His head bowed with the craving wealth,
And in the world of less compassion,
Injured by grievances,
He has passed thousand sleepless nights.


With the staggering steps on way back home,
He sang aloud and had fallen unconscious.
Struggling, swimming and drowning,
In the shallow water of life,
Suffering thousands the wounds of Sin,
He had become mad.

The snake charmer looking for the sermon of Brahmansor,
In mirage sight, has lost his way,
And was wandering aimlessly on the dense jungle roads.
With the middle-path foot-steps,
Like haunted the blind by the ghosts,
He could not move onward,
Thus, has committed the crimes again and again.


A young nude girl though sobbing in murmuring breath,
Tears flowing down and kneeling before him,
She has been drowned
Behind the disgusting curtains of the dark walls,

Oh, Young blossom! Plucked by the bullets of Beasts,
Are you floating on the waves of the bloody ocean?
Oh, young deer! Escape not and moaning in agony,
Have you fallen into the traps of the hunters?


“We have to pay the bloody credits
To the historic black scars of the despised Ghost.”


Beneath the bosom-bloods of the people,
The fearful dragon no more be poisonous than a water snake,
And the hot power of the flames has broken its spears.
The tiger in cage could not jump over the preys,
Then, you should sleep in jocund death,
Enjoying Sabbath and Sermon.
The toll from the temples, the sounds of the cow-bells
From nearer the slope, have ceased all then,
And in solitude, the regretful desert-bird has fallen
Sound sleep on the earthen bed forever.

Washing off the honour, pride and prejudice
Of the dead person,
And chattering in praise of his name,
The people on the horse-pulled loading carts,
Have come back along the red muddy road.
A flock of birds has swiftly flown away
To the remote hill-ranges.
From the old golden jungle road,
Came back the cattle to the village.
From above the cemetery house,
The long-necked vultures had flown away to the south.

Beneath the rough flow of (Old-age and Death) river,
Beside the wild bank of Sorrow and Woe,
Stirred and blown by the waves of Misery,
Would the hyacinth amid the whirls of Ever-circle,
Advent again?

The chariot of time on its thorny way,
Has voyaged slowly greeting the world.
Under the midnight sky, from the cemetery hill,
The last toll of farewell has spread over
From Heaven to Hell.

K. Kyaw (AASYC)

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