Seasons

Seasons

year after year
spring springs in out of nowhere
without blossoming at my garden
follows the summer
but I perceive no brightness
nor any warmth to my chilled soul,
the scorched dry soul seeks for some drops of rain
so that heart once again fills with life
and the easterlies bring monsoon clouds
full of dry air and brine rain
but on every autumn,
trees at my garden shed their leaves
and the muted leaves cover the ground
waiting to be dug six feet down
and follows winter,
with dry, chilly wind piercing my soul
and the dull fog and smog
obscuring my sight, my dreams
and my will to be alive ...
and year after year
spring or summer or monsoon
fails to reach my soul
but the autumn and the winter
reaches time after time
leaves it barren, cold and dry
as the Mongolian hinterlands.

(Ananda Raj Devkota, 15 November 2010)