Photo & Poetry:
Tirtha Shrestha
The Bridge
What does the bridge
between childhood and youth
look like?
Is it like flowers,
betumbled by those
who vigorously toss
the boughs of their age?
Or
is it like the time
when stars have been plucked off the sky
and pasted upon the dejected breast of time?
What does the bridge between children
and youth look like?
Does it look like the smile
the stars display, after the moon rises
in the sky?
Or, it is like the pomp of a silo in harvest season?
Or, is it like something else?
I tell the truth
I want to see in the light of truth
what the bridge
between childhood and youth
looks like.
Translation: Mahesh Paudyal
