The savage world, save me, is celebrating.

The gorgeous hills at their lush vegetation,

The graceful rhododendrons at their crimson attire,

The valiant lion at its power to pounce,

The meek deer at its craft of escaping from the pounce,

The tiny ants at their union force,

The monal hovering over the blue horizon.

Yes, all but me seem ceremonial.

Because neither the deplorable past

Nor the insatiate future

Enter their mind to disturb their present

By Bimal Kishore Shrivastwa

From: Nepal

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