– Bhim Nidhi Tiwari (1911 - 1973)

In the frigid month of Magh, it was blowing a gale.
Early at dawn, the roof, the path and the meadow were
powdered white white sugar The cold was biting.
all water surfaces froze into glass. A poor man in a 
pitiable plight trembled in every limb. But who was 
there to take pity on him?

He had a thing, a cap only in name, upon his head. All
the pigtail came out of it. His vest was worn and
tattered, so that his chest and back, came bare, He 
had one dhoti on, a strip, four inches long. Otherwise
he was naked in every limb. The poor and pitiable
man trembled all over. But who was there to take pity on him?

Both his eyebrows were white with frost. His toes
and his nails were all frost bitten and blue. His heels
were cracked, through and through. Blood dripping 
every hour, the poor and pitiable man shivered in every
limb. But who was there to take pity on him?

Sometimes he sits on the side of the road, doubling up
his chest. And at times he cast a glance to the East
to see whether the early flush was coming up. Inside
his warm armpits he keeps both hands tight pressed,
whistling through his breath. The poor and pitiable
man trembled in every limb. Who was there to take 
pity on him?

Ah! His exposed extremities are like the frigid cold on
the Himalayan mountains. A fire blazes in his bowels
a fire which does not go out, but blazes more
and more. From his mouth comes out a mist like
smoke making his teeth all chatter. The poor and
pitiable man shook and shivered. Who was there to
take pity on him?


Translated by : Laxmi Prasad Devkota