Santosh Kumar Pokharel
In the forests of Alaska, an earthquake had unleashed its fury,
Nature was venting its wrath,
Innocent trees were falling,
The ground’s surface was cracking with horrific sounds,
It was as if a flood of tremors had swept through
Those very forests.
What had become of the animals? No one knew.
The other settlements of America were peacefully asleep at that time.
I was awake in Nepal.
Alaska was enduring all of nature’s fury alone
That night.
I bowed my head many times to the compassion of creation.
You all, bow to this creation!
No witnesses will remain
Of the apocalypse.
(Santosh Kumar Pokharel is a multilingual poet of our time. Recognized with titles such as World Poet, Golden Writer of the World, and Best International Poet, he was recently honored with the Maxim Gorky International Award and the Gold Feather of Russia in special ceremonies in Moscow. His poems and articles have been translated into forty languages, and he has authored eleven books.)
