The garden was in glee
In mirth were the bumblebees
None knows what came about in suddenness—
The gardener stopped showing up;
The flowers became captives.
Leaving behind a sad cadence,
The bumblebees went away
To make another garden their resort.
Far away, in a crevice on a coffin
The familiar portrait of the gardener
From his neck, there hangs a garland,
Made from the same flowers, now devoid of life.
[Bimarsha Dahal, a sixteen-year old verse-prodigy from Nepal, is an eleventh grader at Birendra Army School, Bhaktapur. At such a young age, he excels in poems that are short, epigrammatic and deeply thoughtful.]