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| Poet Prakashmani Dahal |
It
seems true that they say
Man
is nothing but a field where
Dreams
keep growing;
A
giant of a single Bunyan
or
a whole range of wheat sowing.
It
is the dreams that plows the field
During
they are sleeping,
Smooth,
soft and fertilized;
And
it is during the wake
They
sow whatever seed
They
have deeply passioned.
Of
course all such dreams
Don't
come true
As
all crops don't grow well;
Unless
they are seasonable and tended well
As
Tenging and Hillary's climb
Or
as that of Hitler and Stalin's gale.
Dreams
of bunyans make symbols and beacons
Which
are rare, fair that lift the ages;
The
other, however ordinary,
Live
and let live the masses and thus
Dreams
former it encourages.
(Prakashmani Dahal is a poet and essayist. He writes both in Nepali and English.)
(Prakashmani Dahal is a poet and essayist. He writes both in Nepali and English.)
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