Taijas Sharma
I smoke
Probably my last smoke.
I’ve burned everything
Letters, pendants,
Book, trinkets,
Portraits and clothes
Before I came here.
Ah, this place!
Desolated and overcast,
Gigantic cliffs and naked trees.
Believe me,
You will not encounter such a fear
As you see the horror of this place-
The house of Devils,
You bet.
Enough to swallow
The soul from your body.
Ugh, these beasts!
They hit you every time
When they flap those frightful wings,
And there is no soft Earth
When you fall.
O, this stony tower and steep walls,
And eye-churning smoke-
You couldn’t understand
Where it’s coming from.
Now I don’t have anything to regret.
Ah, my grief-stricken heart,
But I’m confident
I buried her carefully,
Like an artist and his final stroke.
And I’m glad
I did it.
Woe and no repent at all.
‘Ah, this place!’
My chest fills up.
‘‘Fear not, grief-stricken heart,
Fear not thyself.
The ultimate is death
When you choose to darken thy path.
O’ fear not, loving heart,
Fear not thyself.
When thy path is all darkened,
Thy heart no longer builds an arch.’’
