Poetry:
Mahesh Paudyal
Statue of the Victor
When the victor
With his glorious sword conquered both land and water
His henchmen erected
A sky-scrapping statue of black stones in the mid-town
And painted it in skin colour.
Every year, when the victor's birthday is around
The artisans paint the statue afresh
With human colour
But every years
The lining peels off
And the black stone is exposed.
Didn’t the victor have with him a sword
That could vanquish seasons?
Translation: Poet Himself
