The Mountain | Hem Bishwakarma

-Hem Bishwakarma

There's a mountain

Who always plays a green flute

She grooves a melody of trees

And sings a melancholic song for the valleys

Oh, her old-aged stories...!

Sometimes, she wails

Melting the rock--as a heart

The more, while the night of rainfall

The labourers of life 

Take a swim and douche

Quench the wrath of thirst

In a pond of mountain-tears

The weather flies for foreign land

Ejaculating colourful semen

The mountain nurtures her daughters

With a lot of love and devotion

The seasons as rapist persistently

assaults the daughters and destroys

Usually, the mountains endures

The landslides of her own heartbroken

However, she retains the moon-fruiting sky!

The green flute withstands, yet!

Somewhere,

The mountain remains plunged into pains

In fact, the she has a giant heart!