Poetry:
Ayam Basnet
Unknown Horizon
I left my home,
I killed my friends,
I cut all the strings,
And I flew away.
I tried to catch the horizon,
I kept flying, kept running,
But the horizon remains ever-elusive,
My dream unburnt,
My hope unperished, I run.
But remembrance; the past:
It has finally caught up,
It is spreading through the green meadow,
Drawing away the life,
It has conquered my mind,
And destroyed the essence of flight.
What I want?
Where is it?
The uncatchable horizon, a great wide open?
Or the past, home, a comfortable haven?
Translation: Poet Himself
