‘A Song of Melancholy’ by Civa Bhusal

During the rainy days,

my brother could sleep at home;

he needn’t go to school,

he needn’t go to the cornfields

to watch out the parrots.

He needn’t even go to the vacant fields

to play football.


He never learnt it himself…


I, too couldn’t teach him that

life is not always the same.


He loved the spring season too.



The season when the sprouts grow into the trees.

When the cuckoos sing with their pleasant voice,

when flowers smile like children,

when the children smile like the flowers…


The season when the ‘Whitman’ grass

grows tall and high

onto the mighty sky.


With every spring,

the memories of my childhood

come rushing inside my head.


I remember my father

showing the horizon above the mighty hills.


I remember my childhood friends

with whom I played the pranks.


I remember the moments of

fights and the hugs.


I remember a song of melancholy

that everyone used to sing in our village.


Every time,

I go to my father’s house

and watch my mother’s face.


I remember –

the season of spring

which once-upon-a-time

brought a joy in our air.


I remember-

my father’s horizon;

And the reminiscence

Of the past.


And I remember

my brother,

who once went to the woods

and never came back.


Poet’s Bio: Hailing from Kathmandu, Nepal; Civa Bhusal, 21, is a student of Computer Engineering and he loves writing poetry and fiction, in both Nepali and English. His works have been published in The Republica, The Himalayan Times, The Kathmandu Post, The Applicant and The Writer’s Asylum.

Illustration by Alan Van Every (Featured image on the front page)


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