-Hari Bhakta Katuwal (1935-1980)

What kind of a life is this!
Empty inside 
Life merely on the surface
Pale with the fear of atom bombs
Hunted by the ghost of hardships 
What life is this!
One has to sleep here resting head on the pillow of guns
One has to live here stepping on the sharp edge of khukuri
Fears to close the eyes
Fears to open the eyes!
Life is like glass bangles
Put in a showcase
That could break suddenly 
Being forced through a young lady's hand
This life like cheap slippers
May break anytime while walking on the street
What kind of a life is this!

Translated by: Abhi Subedi