Dhading Besi
I wake up sometimes,
With my feet pulsating with thrill,
Of jumping through the fields of Thopal.
Some childhood memories stick by,
Glued to our body, mingled with the soul.
Chasing after the kites,
Rolling down the fields,
Gliding along paper planes,
Jumping in the cold waters of Thopal.
It feels as if the red dust from the slopes,
Is still stuck to my body.
And the nameless shadows,
Faceless memories,
I still hear the shrills of excited kids.
And remember all the wild berries,
Amla and amaro and tindu fruits,
It feels like the life now is just a shadow,
Of a real life that was already lived,
A faint image of something long gone,
As if what is left is memories alone.